Lost
by Kybo
Summary: Harry can never go home, but Ron and Hermione are determined to help. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

After escaping Voldemort, Harry knows he can never return to the life that he loves. But Ron and Hermione are determined to help him come home. Can they figure out what happened to Harry during his imprisonment before they lose him, and everyone they love, forever?

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Cold...

Everything was always cold now. Lifeless. Meaningless.

I leaned up against the cold, wet stone of some random building. I shivered and brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them as the cold wind blew the icy wet air around my body, rippling beneath my thin, torn shirt and baggy pants.

I had been missing for almost a year now.

I had only escaped from Voldemort about 3 months ago.

But I couldn't go home. Never. Not without putting everyone I ever cared about in mortal danger. I couldn't stand it if someone else I cared for died because of me.

There was a clap of thunder right overhead, and the rain began to pelt down. I was saturated within minutes. I figured that I should get out of the freezing downpour before I died of hypothermia or something.

_Not like it would matter. I'm pretty useless anyways._

As I stood up, I lifted my head to see where I was going. A flash of lightning overhead lit up my face and neck, and illuminating the white scar running down across my neck, and then all was dark again.

I trudged off through the puddles forming on the street.

I was somewhere in Edinburgh, but other than that, I didn't have a clue.

All I knew was that I had to get as far away from London and as far away from everything and everyone I knew as possible.

There was a small restaurant up ahead, so I went towards it. Even if I couldn't buy anything, I might as well just sit and have a glass of water.

A dim glow lit up the windows of the place, so I knew they were still open. A dull wooden sign over the door read Dorothy's Diner.

As I stepped up to the door, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the glass. My face was thin and sallow, my cheeks a little shrunken from lack of food. My eyes were dull, and my jet black hair was down to my shoulders, and though it was still messy and unkempt, at the moment it was straight and dripping from the rain. Along with the scar on my neck, there was another thin scar running across my left cheek.

Ignoring this image, I stepped into the restaurant. There was a couple in a booth near the door. An older waitress was hovering around the table, chatting idly with them. Other then that, the place seemed empty.

When I walked in, the three looked over at me. The waitress gasped and walked over to me. "Are you all right?" She asked quickly.

_What? Oh yeah. Not every day you have a half-starved teenager walk in with scars and stuff everywhere._

"Yeah. I'm okay." My voice was hoarse and scratchy, the product of a knife wound I had received over 5 months ago. "Can I have a glass of water? I just decided to get out of the rain for a while."

"Uh, yes, of course." She said, walking over to a table. As she hurried over, I caught a glimpse of her name tag pinned to her blouse. It read 'Mary'. "You can have a seat here. " I glanced up when she spoke, then walked over to the table she was standing by and sat down.

"Would you like something to eat?" She asked kindly, still staring at my emaciated figure.

"No, thanks. Just a glass of water." She nodded and bustled away. I glanced over at the couple sitting over at the table. They were looking over at me, but on seeing me watching them, they quickly averted their gaze.

"Here you go, dear." The elderly waitress came back out and set the glass of water on the table in front of me. I looked up at her and smiled. "Thanks."

"Sure. Are you sure you don't want something warm to eat? You're soaked through! Aren't you cold?" She looked down at me with motherly concern.

I chuckled. "No, I'm fine. It wouldn't really matter anyway, I don't have any money." I said simply. "But it's okay, water's just fine."

She gave me a sympathetic look and muttered "I understand." before bustling away to attend the other couple in the diner. They paid their bill and left, watching me as they walked out of the building. I smirked.

The waitress had disappeared into the kitchen.

I sat in the booth, enjoying the heat in the building. I knew I couldn't stay for too long. I knew that I was being tracked by some, and hunted by another. If I stayed anywhere for too long, I was in danger of being found.

After about five minutes the old waitress came out of the kitchen bearing a bowl of soup. I watched her curiously for a minute before she walked over to my table.

"Here you go dear." She said in a motherly tone. I gaped at her.

"But-but I can't-" she cut me off. "It's okay, this is on me. Don't you worry about it."

She placed a spoon on the table in front of me. "Here you go. Eat." She smiled warmly at me and hurried off to the kitchen. I hardly had time to mutter a quick "Th-thanks..." before she was gone around the corner.

I picked up the spoon and tried a sip. The soup was hot and steaming. It was a type of vegetable broth with big chunks of carrot and potato, with some slices of celery mixed in. It wasn't much, but to my starved body, it was a feast; the tastiest thing I had had in a long, long time.

I savored each bite, until my bowl was empty. For a while, I actually forgot all my pain, how everything in my life had fallen apart.

I sat in the warm booth in the bright diner while the storm raged on outside. I was completely content for a while, but soon enough, reality sank in, and I knew I had to leave soon.

The waitress walked out of the kitchen again to check on me. "How are you doing?" she asked kindly.

"I'm wonderful. Thank you very much for everything." I answered back.

"Oh, come now. It was just a bit of water and soup. No need to make a big fuss." she chuckled.

"Well, it was more than I've had in a while. It was delicious. Thank you again." A look of concern flashed across her face. "What do you mean that's the most you've had in a while?"

I cursed myself inwardly for my lack of thought.

_Dammit Harry, watch what you say!_

"Um...well, erm. What I meant was, uh..." I fumbled over my words as I sought for an explanation. The last thing I needed was people asking questions.

"What is your name?" She asked, looking me straight in the eye.

"James." I said quickly; it was the first name that came to mind.

"Where do you come from?" "I come from down south, near London." I said warily. I figured there could not be much harm in telling her that much. She looked a bit better after that, I wasn't sure why, but it was okay with me as long as she stopped asking me questions.

After what seemed an eternity, she smiled and said "Well, would you like anything else, dear?" I felt rather shaken and quickly answered " No, I'm fine. I should probably go now. Thanks for everything." I stood and quickly left the building, the kind old waitress watching me and biting her lip. As soon as she saw my figure hurrying down the street hugging myself through the pounding rain, she turned and headed towards the kitchen and picked up the phone to call someone. As it rang, she flipped the small T.V. in the corner to a news channel, where she just caught the tail end of a missing persons report from London...

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A red-haired boy sat in a dark kitchen in Grimmauld Place in London. His head hung. It had been a year now. It seemed like so much longer. He looked up as the door to the kitchen opened, and a dark-haired girl about his age walked in. He watched as she pulled up a seat and sat next to him--he even managed a slight smile, but it died when she looked him straight n the eye and said quietly, "It's time to move on Ron. It's been a year. I know how hard it is to accept, but he would have wanted us to continue on with our lives."

Ron looked at her in disbelief. "How can you say that?" He demanded. "He's not dead! I can't believe you would just give up on him like that, Hermione!" "We have no proof that he's alive!" She retaliated. "How can you keep up false hope like this?" She asked him, her voice getting slightly higher. Ron stood up and practically shouted in her face "How can someone as smart as you be so _stupid_! Look at all the signs Hermione. If You-Know-Who had killed Harry, we would've known by now! Don't you think it a bit odd that he's still snooping around who knows where? If he had killed Harry, he would've come out and started killing everyone and boasting about his kill. Besides, Dumbledore is still searching! He still has hope! I can't see him continuing the search if there was no reason for it! He's even posted an add on the muggle television for anyone who might have information about him. Don't berate me for holding false hope, Hermione. I won't give up my hope until I see Harry's dead body! Don't you give up on him!" Hermione looked at him in shock, her eyes wide and watery and her lip quivering. Ron continued in a softer tone, "Don't you dare give up on him. We're his best friends, Hermione. We need to believe in him. I don't care if it's been ten years, I'm not giving up on him." His voice cracked, and tears began to thread down his cheeks. "I'll never give up on you, Harry. Never" That last statement was no more than a whisper.

"Ron..."Hermione whimpered, and they both leaned in and hugged each other, collapsing into each other's embrace and crying together for a lost friend.

Just outside the door, Molly Weasley slipped away into the dark corridor behind her, wiping a tear off her cheek after hearing the conversation in the kitchen. She almost bumped into Professor Dumbledore, who was walking down the hallway from the opposite side.

"Oh. Professor!"She cried as she jumped back, startled. "I'm sorry. What brings you here?"

Dumbledore looked back at her, and she saw a renewed sparkle in his eyes. "He's been sighted."

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_My hands were chained above my head to the dank stone all behind me. My legs were weak and wouldn't fully support my wait, and the chains dug into my wrists until blood dribbled down my arms to pool in the crook of my neck. There were cuts, bruises, and gashes covering my body. Every breath was laboured as I forced myself to continue on-one more hour, one more day. _

_A high pitched voice hissed through the darkness and my head seemed ready to explode. "You can never go back now, Harry. You know why. Hahaha, and what would Harry Potter be without his loyal friends. You know that if you go back to them, they will all die."_

_I screamed as he laughed into the darkness. I screamed in pain and rage. The pain, however, was not only physical. I could never see his friends again. Never._

_Then the voice sounded again. "You are getting annoying with all that screaming boy." he smirked under those cold, red eyes. There was a flash of silver and something cold and metal glinted in the dim light of the cell._

_A swishing noise, then my throat seared with pain and my scream turned into a gurgle as it was ripped open..._

I gasped as I sat bolt upright, panting to regain my breath. I reached a hand up and ran my fingers lightly over the white scar running across the front of my neck. I hardly even realized the tears trickling down my face until a few drops slid into my mouth and I tasted the warm salty liquid.

Quickly drying my eyes with my hand, I looked around me. Sunlight shone down around me through the

rain-washed sky. It had to be about midmorning. Puddles lining the street reflected the empty blue sky overhead.

I was in a small ally way a few miles away from Dorothy's Diner. I had to get far away from there. I could tell by her eyes that she had recognized me; I had seen the ad on the news a few days previous--a missing boy from London named Harry Potter, around the age of sixteen, nearly seventeen. I had looked back as I ran from the diner and seen the old woman with a telephone.

I stood up quickly, swaying slightly as the blood rushed from my head. I had to go. Now.

A thought struck me and I wondered why I hadn't thought of it before. I smacked my forehead at the stupidity of it all.

_Duh! A disguise!_

I pulled out a small pocketknife from my pant pocket and put it behind my head. I slowly Started to cut the hair on the back of my head shorter, but I left the front longer so I could conceal my lightening bolt scar. When the hair on the back of my head was short enough, I reached down and dipped my hands into a puddle, then brought them up and rubbed them around the back of my head, spiking the hair up. That was all I could do now until I found some new clothes.

I walked down through the town I was in, looking for any thrift stores or anything. After about an hour and a half, I found one. I snuck over to the donations pile and started sifting through the old clothes. After a while, I found a black trench coat that fit me well enough, and a pair of black boots that were in much better condition than the shoes I was currently wearing. I figured my pants were all right, so I started looking for a shirt. The only one I found that fit me and didn't look completely stupid was a long sleeve black shirt wit a red logo--some muggle rock band or something.

_Hmmm... gothic. Whatever. A couple piercings or something and I'd be pretty hard to recognize--that and people don't really go out to socialize with gothic people. _

So, smirking slightly to myself, I looked around to make sure I wasn't spotted and slipped off with my new wardrobe.

That evening found me about ten miles outside of Edinburgh on some lonely country road. Every few minutes a lone car would whiz by as I trudged along with my hands in my pockets. My mind was empty, but at the same time, it was so full I couldn't organize my thoughts.

_Now Dumbledore is that much closer to finding me... But I can't let anyone find me. I can't. If they did..._

I shuddered to think what would happen if they did. No. That couldn't happen.

_But, god I miss them. I wonder how long I can truly keep this up. What if they do find me? Will I be strong enough to push them away?_

With such thoughts running through my head, I kept walking.

Soon it was dark, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to see where I was going. So, ignoring the twinge of hunger rising up through my stomach, I walked away from the road to find a place to crash for the night.

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Ron looked up at the kitchen door.

"What is it?" Whispered Hermione.

"Dumbledore is here. I could just hear him talking to mum." Hermione looked surprised. "How do you know that?" she asked. "My hearing's been advanced ever since Fred and George tried experimenting one of their new products at the beginning of the summer." He looked back at Hermione. "Let's see what they're talking about."

They snuck over pressed their ears to the kitchen door. They could hear the muffled conversation just outside between Molly Weasley and Dumbledore.

"Are you sure it's him? I mean, there hasn't been a mistake or something? You're absolutely sure?" Mrs. Weasley sounded excited, but there was a twinge of fear or anticipation in her vice as if she didn't dare believe what she was hearing.

"Yes, Molly. She was quite sure it _was_ Harry." Ron and Hermione looked at each other, hope dancing behind their eyes. Could it be true? They leaned back against the door.

"But where? How was he?" Was the concerned yet joyous voice of Mrs. Weasley.

"He went into a diner up in Edinburgh. The woman who informed me, a Mrs. Mary Burdock, said he came in to get out of the rain and have a glass of wat--" "But how did he _look_? Was he injured? Starved?" Her voice cracked as she interrupted Dumbledore.

"She said that he did look fairly thin and he had several scars. The one on his forehead, of course. But she also said there was one on his cheek, and a rather nasty looking one across his throat." At hearing this, Mrs. Weasley gasped, and Ron and Hermione glanced at each other again, their faces a little paler than they had been.

"He could talk, Though his voice seemed scratchy and rather strained. She gave him some soup along with the water, though he protested, saying he didn't have any money." Dumbledore continued. Ron and Hermione pressed their ears harder against the door, if that was even possible.

"But did she say anything else? Is he still there?" Molly questioned further.

"She told me that she recognized him from the television ad that I had had posted. When she started asking questions, she said that he became nervous and she could tell he was picking his answers very carefully. She said he'd told her he was from near London. And he told her his name was James." There was a stifled giggle from Mrs. Weasley and a muttered "Of course." before Dumbledore continued. "She also said that he was in a big hurry to leave. And that's it." There was a pause, and then Mrs. Weasley asked "So what do we do?"

Ron and Hermione, who had started backing away from the door, went back and pressed their ears against it again.

"Well," Dumbledore took a deep breath. "He obviously doesn't want to be recognized, and I can see the logic in that. If Voldemort is looking for him, he wouldn't want to draw attention to himself. But why he's all the way up in Edinburgh is beyond me."

"Maybe You-Know-Who's base is up there somewhere." Molly suggested.

"Possibly, though I seriously doubt it. All of Voldemort's interests are farther south than that, down here in London. So if Harry is running from Voldemort, I don't think he wants us involved for some reason or another. Molly, I want you to call the Order together tonight. We are going to have a meeting to discuss the course of action we should take." "Of course, professor." And she could be heard shuffling down the hallway.

Ron and Hermione slipped quietly over to the table to sit and discuss what the had just overheard. They sat down, but before either of them could open their mouths, the door opened and Professor Dumbledore stepped into the kitchen.

"Professor Dumbledore," Ron said, standing up slowly, but Dumbledore waved him back into his seat. "I think that what Harry needs now are friends." He said quickly. Ron's face got a little red, and he muttered "H-Harry? What--" He stopped feigning ignorance at the look on Dumbledore's face. "I am not disappointed with you two for listening in. I would expect nothing less. I want you two to head up to where Harry is. I will give you all the needed supplies. Once you find him, don't approach him straight away. Watch him for a while, so you might get an idea of how he might react to you." "But we're his best friends." Hermione protested. "Why would he not want to see us? I would think it might be a relief to him after everything he's gone through. Why can't we just go up to him?"

Dumbledore sat a minute, not saying anything, but regarding the two teenagers as though wondering how much to tell them. He looked at them both for a while before saying slowly, with a purpose "I didn't tell Molly everything, because I know that her reaction would not be pleasant. But I want you two to know everything so you will have a more realistic view on what's happening. Mrs. Burdock, the waitress at the diner Harry visited, told me that when she saw Harry, it frightened her. She said that he's incredibly thin. She also told me that what she was most afraid of was his eyes. The way she described them was not as threatening, but dead. She said there was no emotion in them at all. Even though he was being civil to her, actually he was very kind and polite, but his expression never reached his eyes." He paused a moment, pondering. Hermione looked scared, and Ron slipped his hand into hers. She squeezed it, and he squeezed back. They both looked expectantly at Dumbledore, and he soon continued. "She also talked about the scar on his throat." At this, Ron unconsciously rubbed the fingers of his free hand up and down the front of his neck. "She said that it seemed like it had been a deep wound when it occurred. She said she didn't see any sign that he had received medical attention for it. The same with the scar on his cheek. She said that nothing else was visible, but she suspected there to be many more. He also had a slight limp on his right leg, though he tried to hide it. And that's all." He finished.

Ron and Hermione glanced back at each other. When they looked back at Dumbledore, there was determination shining in their eyes. Ron looked the headmaster straight in the eye. "When do we leave?"


	2. Chapter 2

_Water dripped down, echoing loudly against the dank interior of the chamber. _

_A rat scurried across the floor in some shadowy part of the cell. _

_The sound of cold, cruel laughter bounced off the walls, falling on deaf ears. _

_There was a form lying in a puddle on the cold stone floor. The figure's chest barely moved as it struggled for breath. In the dim light of the cell, The figure's dark hair could be seen, disheveled and filthy, with blood sticking it together in some places. _

_The light shone off the puddle as the figure struggled to stay alive. _

_It was a deep, dark,_

_red._

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I shot up into a sitting position, gasping for breath. My body was drenched in cold sweat as I fought to regain control over my breathing

I subconsciously reached a hand up and rubbed it across the back of my head, almost expecting to feel the clotting warm wetness that had clumped my hair together not too long ago.

_Come on, Harry. Pull yourself together. This is stupid._

I took a long, deep breath and re-ran my hand through my messy black hair.

Looking around me, I realized it was still dark; still early morning. The air was chill after the previous night's rain, and an icy wind whipped around my 'new' clothes, slipping through the seams and riding up the sleeves forming goose bumps on my skin.

It was all rather refreshing.

I embraced the cold and let it bring me to reality and relax my tensed body. I had always loved the early morning--how it was still dark, but not entirely black. How everything was silent and still, and you feel like you're the only living person in the entire area, at least for a couple hours. I thrived off of this cold, solitary time when the universe was asleep.

I stood slowly, stretching all the kinks out of my joints and muscles, before starting walking again on my lonely way.

After about an hour of walking, I could see a sliver of light rising from the horizon. A powerful gust of wind came and stole the breath from my lungs as it tossed my jacket around like a piece of paper.

I wrapped my arms around myself and continued on into the misty dawn.

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Ron rushed around his room in Grimmauld Place stuffing various items into a large green backpack. It was only a couple of hours since Dumbledore had told them of their 'quest', and only a few minutes until the meeting that he had told Molly to get together began. He had told Ron and Hermione that it would be best to leave during the meeting, as everyone would be busy and no one would be worrying about the two teens. He told them he would explain everything to the Order.

He looked over his shoulder as the door opened and Hermione stepped in, a backpack slung over her shoulders.

"Ready?" She asked. Her face was about as pale as Ron's; they were both extremely nervous.

"Yeah. Jus' about."

"Right." Hermione took a deep breath. "Let's go."

Ron zipped up his backpack and they snuck quietly out of the room. They tip-toed past the kitchen, where they could hear the muffled voices of the Order in the middle of an urgent meeting.

Once they were outside the house and it had shrunk back into invisibility, They broke into a run until they were a few miles away from Grimmauld Place, at which time Hermione looked at Ron with a very serious expression on her face.

"Do you know how to apperate?" Ron cast her an incredulous look before saying "But we haven't learned how yet. I thought we didn't learn how 'till later this year."

"We don't," Hermione looked rather sheepish for a second before continuing. "But I read up and it and I can do it now. If you just hold onto my arm I can get us to Edinburgh a lot faster-"

"Uh-uh!" Ron glared at her. "You better prove you can do it first. I don't want to end up splinched or something!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine." She got a look of deep concentration on her face before vanishing with a loud crack. Ron sat there for a second, His mouth hanging open. A second later, there was another loud _crack! _and Hermione as standing behind him.

"H-how?.?.? Wh-where did you go?" He stared at her bemused before she answered.

"I went to Bristol and came back. Do you trust me now?" Ron nodded slowly, then stepped forward and gripped Hermione's hand and she squeezed back, then they were gone.

They would bring Harry back.

No matter what.

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A car whizzed by close enough that I felt the heat from the metal.

To say the least, it snapped me back into reality.

I walked until I was well out away from the road, then looked around. I didn't have a clue where I was.

_Whatever. _

To say that I was exhausted was a bit of an understatement. I had been tortured continuously for several months, escaped, and walked on foot halfway across the whole damn country with minimal food and only two pairs of clothes, one of which I had only obtained a few days previous.

_I was ready to friggin' drop._

So, I figured I would hang out here for a while. I didn't really care what happened to me anymore; I refused to think about my past, or about what might happen in my future. I had decided to only live the present about two days ago when nightmares had kept me awake and paranoid for the millionth time.

And right now, I needed money so I could buy food. For that, I needed a job.

I started walking around the town. I found out that I was in Glasgow after seeing a sign.

There wasn't much open, after all it was a little past midnight. After about an hour of wandering, I found a place that was actually open. I figured it was just irony that it happened to be a tattoo/ body art shop. So I wandered towards the building and stepped in.

I squinted at the sudden rush of blinding light. When my eyes adjusted, I looked around. I was in a waiting room of sorts. There were chairs and various magazines, a desk was in the back of the room and a door stood slightly ajar behind it. There was a young woman sitting on a stool behind the desk, reading a magazine. She looked up at me as I entered. She had to be around twenty at the most. She had various piercings covering her face; eyebrows nose, lips, and ears. Her black hair was shoulder length with blue and purple streaks.

"Can I help you?" She asked dully, setting her magazine down irritably.

"Uh, yeah." She seemed taken aback at my appearance and scratchy voice, but shook it off after a moment. "I was wondering if you, uh, well, I was wondering if you had any openings." I finished, rather sheepishly.

She gave me a wyrd look. I guess they didn't often get people asking for jobs at two in the morning.

"Hang on a tick." She turned and walked into the room behind her. A few minutes later, she emerged from the door with a tall, thin man with tattoos everywhere trailing her.

"'Lo. My name's Tom. Samantha says yer lookin' for a job?" His voice was gruff.

I swallowed and said, "Y-yeah."

"Are you any good with drawing? Do you have any experience in the field of body art and the likes?"

I thought for a moment, then said, "Well, my friends-" I tried not to wince at the word. "-always said that I was pretty good at drawing; I can do pretty much everything as long as I have a picture. And I was always drawing on my arms with markers and stuff when I was bored back at home."

He seemed to consider me for a moment before saying "Hold on a mo'." Then he walked back out the door behind him and returned a few seconds later with a sketch pad and pencil. "All right," he said. "I'm gonna ask you to draw a few things..."

After about two hours of drawing various things for Tom, he said "Well, you're sure talented enough. How 'bout this. You come back in the morning, and we'll start your training. You can watch Samantha and Derrin for the first couple of days to get the hang of things here and to see how everything works. When you think you're ready, you can try the equipment on yourself, then on either Sam or Derrin. We open at eleven and close at eleven if there aren't any appointments. Got that?" I nodded. "All right. See you tomorrow, or, well, later today then."

"Yeah. Thanks." And I left the shop to find an alley or someplace to sleep for the remainder of the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The next week or so went by in a haze of following Sam and Derrin around the parlour, watching and learning, and taking anything and everything in. Tom was always impressed when I showed up on time everyday and even turned to his two workers one day and said "Be more like James here." (I had given my name as 'James Timbrook' as I knew I could not give them my real name.)

But it wasn't as if I had a reason to be late. I wanted to be there. To lose myself in the artwork everyday and to forget that I was hiding, and to forget just why I was hiding.

Tom even let try doing my first tattoo on the third day. I couldn't think of anything that would be more appropriate for me, so I did a snake on the inside of my lower arm. It hurt at first, but I embraced the pain, and soon I couldn't even feel anything but a slight poke every now and then. Derrin let me test out my skills on him, and I ended up drawing a dragon on his back. It was big and took a long time to finish, but we were both pleased with the results.

It looked remarkably like a Hungarian Horntail...

On the second week of my employment at the Inkheart Body Art Parlour, a huge group of teenage boys came in and I was finally able to work on actual customers.

I was finally starting to feel comfortable in one place again. Something that I had never thought would happen again.

One night, after the place was closed, Sam, Derrin and I were sitting in the back room talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I cherished these moments secretly; a time when we could all just sit and talk and not worry or care what might happen next. As we sat there talking, a soda in each of our hands, a subject came up that I was only to keen to get away from.

"Listen, James," said Sam as she set her soda down on one of the tables and leaned forward slightly. "You've done really well since you came here. I mean, you're incredible! But when you first came in, I really didn't expect you to e sticking around or anything."

I leaned forward also, an eyebrow raised. "Oh?"

"Well, yeah." Derrin pitched in. "You looked bloody horrible. You were all thin and sickly looking. We thought you'd be a pain to work with, because you seemed so ready to block everyone out and run if things got a little tough. Can't blame you, really. We can see you've been through some damn rough times before, eh?"

I could feel myself starting to retreat back into an all too familiar shell. "Wh-what do you mean?" My voice was a little higher than what I expected and the scratchiness and strain in my voice was all too noticeable.

"Come off it, mate! Look at you!" said Sam exasperatedly. "You know damn right what we're talking about!" She pointed at me firmly. "We never asked because we didn't really know you, but now, you're one of us. We're all friends, right? We can help you and it's not hard to tell that something is eating you up inside." She lowered her voice a bit, then continued. "We know that something horrible happened in the not too distant past. You've got scars like no-one I've ever seen. Or Derrin. Please, tell us what happened. We want to help you. We really do. And if you want, we won't tell a soul, not even T-" She stopped abruptly as I stood up, knocking my empty soda bottle to the ground.

"I've got to go." I said hastily, and stepped over to my locker to get my jacket. Sam and Derrin both looked hurt.

"But-" said Derrin, but he obviously couldn't think of anything to say. I looked at them. My insides were bubbling. I had to get out.

"James. Talk to us. You're-"

"It's none of your business what happened to me!" I snarled. "My past is of no concern to you!" I stopped at the shocked looks on their faces. I forced myself to calm down, then spoke in a low voice so that my new friends had to lean in to understand my words,

"I'm sorry. But I really don't want to talk about it. I know you want to help," I added at the look on Sam's face, "but...well, you can't. There's no possible way. I really wish there was, I really do. But I'm beyond helping, so don't even try." And I was gone, out into the drizzly night.

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"Come on, Hermione, he's not here! We've looked everywhere!" Ron moaned as he and Hermione traversed the streets of Edinburgh for about the tenth time in two days. "We should move on to the next town already, because if he knows that someone will be looking for him and he doesn't want to be found, he can't stay in one place for a long time."

Hermione glared at him. "Be that as it may," She said coldly. "We can't afford _not _to look everywhere. Fine friends we'd be if we just passed right by him or missed him completely! But I do think you have a good point; he probably wouldn't hang around in one place for very long if he didn't want to be found. How about this. We'll look through here one last time then move on to the next town. All right?"

"All right." said Ron quickly, eager to be on to the next town. "Well what are you waiting for? Let's get cracking!"

He knew that Harry wasn't there. It was like a weight in the pit of his stomach. Harry was is best friend- he would know when he was close. But he just couldn't find a way to explain this, and every time he tried it was useless. You just can't argue with someone who has so much knowledge and rationalizing and logic that they lacked the necessary common sense to try something new, or to believe in something you couldn't see or touch. He had eventually given up trying.

"I'm coming Harry, wether you like it or not" he muttered as he once again put his sore feet into motion.

"What?" asked Hermione, looking back at him.

"Nothing," he said quickly. But there was a more determined air about him as he walked on into the dusk.

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I paced through the streets in the dark, my rain soaked hair plastered to my skull. Occasionally my drenched self would be momentarily illuminated as I passed under a dull street lamp. My hands were in my pockets and my head hung low. Water dripped off my nose and chin at regular intervals.

_Why did I freak out like that? Well, that isn't too hard, but I could've reacted differently. They meant well. They weren't trying to make me feel so uncomfortable._

I anxiously probed my own thoughts. I didn't know what to think. I didn't know where to go. I couldn't just leave, they might try and find me or call the police or something that would attract a lot of unwanted attention.

_God why did I get myself into this situation? I can't run..._

I froze in my tracks.

_I can't run. I can't get away. _

My thoughts seemed to freeze. I could actually hear the rain splattering on the road, and on the shingles of the houses. I suddenly felt how very cold and wet I was.

_I** can't **run..._

There was no way to explain it, but I suddenly felt a little warmer inside. I still knew that I couldn't be found, but it didn't seem as much of a burden. I could stay here. I _could stay_ here and not be afraid. I didn't know why I suddenly felt so warm, but I did.

"Hey! James!" I spun around and saw Sam running towards me. I slowed down to let her catch up.

"Why are you out here?" I asked when I saw her soaked figure slow to a walk next to me.

"I was about to ask you the same thing." She answered. "I'm on my way home. I just saw you and thought you could use a companion."

I snorted.

"All right. I didn't expect to see you out here; I thought you would go straight home after-"

"Listen." I interrupted. Sam stopped and looked over at me as we walked. "I'm sorry about what I said to you two. I shouldn't have-"

"No. Don't apologize." Sam said simply.

"But-"

"I'm serious! We shouldn't have pried like that. I'm sorry, Harry."


	4. Chapter 4

I froze.

My breathing became difficult.

My blood turned to ice.

"What did you call me?" I asked. My voice sounded like a growl. Sam had stopped and was looking at me. There was fear in her eyes at the hostility in my voice, but there was also a grim determination.

"I know that you're the boy that they're looking for. The one that went missing from London."

I stared at her. I didn't know what to do, or what to think. My mind refused to work.

She was looking intently at me, staring into my eyes.

After what seemed like a millenia, she said slowly, "It's okay, I'm the only one who knows. I won't say anything if you don't me to. " I continued to stare at her incredulously. She continued. "I found out on accident, really. I never watch T.V. Don't have one. I saw the report from London when I was passing the electronics store. I didn't say anything. But that's why I wanted to know what happened to you, because, well, the only scar I could see on the picture of you on the television was that wyrd one on your forehead. I was just curious. That's all."

My tongue seemed to unglue itself and I murmured, "Who are you?" I don't know why I said those words, but it just seemed appropriate.

"What?" She looked at me worriedly. "I'm Sam... You know that, Harry."

"Please. Call me James. My name isn't Harry anymore, alright? And please, don't... don't tell anyone. I can't be found."

She must have heard the urgency in my voice for she said, "Okay. I understand. I won't ask any questions, and I won't tell anyone. I promise. But if you need to talk, you know where I am." And she walked off into the wet night, and I was left standing in the rain under the glow of a streetlamp.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stop!" Ron hissed, and he grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"What?"

"Shhh! Look." He pointed ahead at two figures walking side by side.

They had apperated through several towns for the past couple of days, but they had seen no sign of their friend. They had arrived in Glasgow a few hours previous, and had started searching, their coats nearly soaked through. Now they stood in an alleyway on the outskirts of town. From their vantage point, they could make out two sodden figures conversing under the light of the streetlamp. One had short black hair with what looked like blue or purple streaks in it, with a black coat and a dark skirt with high boots that went up to her knees, and the other...

" 'Mione, I don't think it's him." Said Ron quietly, and he glanced over at Hermione. But she was still staring intently at the two teens standing out in the rain.

"I don't know, " She sighed. But she didn't look away from the two people. "The hair on the back of his head is definitely too short to be Harry, and I've never seen him where clothes like that, but we never know, do we? It might be a disguise. He's always been good at blending in when he wants to."

The first of the figures turned and walked away, leaving the tall one with a dark trenchcoat and black baggy jeans. Ron and Hermione waited with baited breath, but the figure just stood there.

"Come on, turn around already!" Ron hissed under his breath.

After another minute or so, the figure seemed to snap out of a kind of daze, and turned around.

Ron and Hermione both gasped. It was Harry.


	5. Chapter 5

I turned around. It felt like I was walking on the moon, or like I was watching myself from the air. I didn't know what to think. Again. It was becoming rather annoying.

Should I be angry? Scared? Or should I be relieved that someone finally knows? Someone that I trust? Grateful that she won't tell and that she still wants to help me?

_I choose D, 'All of the above'!_

I palmed my hand over my face.

_God I'm so confused..._

So, stifling a yawn, I walked off down the street. I reached my hand in my pocket and fingered a key. The key to the tattoo parlour. All the employees had one. I had received mine a few days ago. It was only around eleven-thirty, so I knew there was a pub down the street that served good sandwiches and soup that closed at midnight.

I could get something to eat then head back to the parlour, cuz I really didn't feel like sleeping in the rain.

Not that anyone knew I slept there, but I was always there early, so Tom didn't have to worry if we got an early call. So who were they to complain?

I stepped through the door to the pub. There weren't many people, just a few every-nighters sitting up at the bar.

"Jeez, James! Don' you have any where else to go?" Yelled the barkeep, limping over to me. He was a thin man around sixty with white hair and a kindly smile. "Not tha' I mind." He muttered quietly. "More service for me."

"'Lo, Henry." I said as I picked my usual seat in the back of the room.

"Usual?"

"Yep."

"All righ' hang on a tick." And he bustled back towards the kitchens behind the bar.

I had found this place shortly after receiving my first paycheck. I had wandered around town until I found it (Sam had told me to try as it really was a nice pub) and since I found it, it's been where I got dinner every night I could afford it.

"Here ya go." Grinned Henry as he slid the sandwich and a drink onto my table.

"Thanks. How're you?" I asked, shaking my thoughts away from a rainy street.

"Ah, 'm fine. You know that. Y'ask me every night. How're ya doin' in tha' shop? Have'n fun?"

"Oh yeah. Loads." I replied quickly. After a second, I added, "My pay has already been raised. Looks like you'll be seein' me more often, old man."

He grinned mischeifly. " 'Old man'? What're you talkin' about? I could take you on any day, an' you know it! Comin', Bill." He sighed as a drunken man at the bar called out for another drink. "See you then." And he bustled off towards the bar. I picked up my sandwich and started to eat.

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Ron and Hermione stood outside the shop hiding under the invisibility cloak that Dumbledore had given them, watching Harry finish chatting with the old man and starting his sandwich.

After a few minutes of watching their friend eat, they knelt down together, hiding from the rain by sitting under the awning that was against the wall of the pub.

"Well, we found him," said Ron, who was still rather pale from the cold and shock of when he first saw Harry. "What now?"

"Dumbledore told us to watch him a while and not let him see us. We need to know what he's been doing and who he is seeing everyday. I think we'll know the right time to approach him." Hermione stated, not looking at Ron. She seemed to be thinking hard about something.

"Yeah," said Ron sarcastically "And when he finds out we've been trailing him when he didn't want to be found in the first place will be all right will it?"

Hermione sighed, then looked at Ron. "I don't know what to do. I don't know why he doesn't want to be found. But if we follow him and get to know what he's up to, it might make it easier for all of us."

Ron sighed, too. "But I still don't think it's right."

They sat in silence for a while.

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

Ron slumped down on the wall a little more. "Did you see those scars on his face and neck?"

They both shuddered.

"What happened to him?" But there was no answer that they could come up with, and in all honesty, they didn't want to think about it.

The door opened to the pub, and Harry stepped out into the wet night and started down the street. Ron and Hermione looked at each other, then, silent as two shadows, they got up and followed him, trying to stay under house ledges to keep out of the rain.

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I stepped up to the back door of the parlour and pulled out my key. I fumbled a little with the lock, as my hands felt frozen from the rain, but then I got it open. I stepped onto the carpet of the locker/lounge room of the place, where we, Sam, Derrin, and I, always hang out after hours. I left the door open to the storm outside. Although freezing, I had always loved the rain.

I stepped up to my locker, opened it up, and reached inside. I pulled out a change of clothes that I had bought a few days back--more black. I was really beginning to like the color. setting the clothes on a bench, I stripped my jacket and shirt off to toss in the corner where I could dry them later. I walked over and shut the door, muffling the sounds of the rain pounding against the ground outside. Then, grabbing my clothes on the way, I walked over to the bathroom to get ready for the night.

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When Harry had left the door open, Ron and Hermione had slipped into the room after him and tread quietly over to the far wall of he room.

They sat down by the corner and watched Harry as he prepared to change for the night.

But as Harry pulled off his jacket, then his shirt, Hermione gasped and Ron was forced to throw his hand over her mouth.

Harry's back, torso, and arms were criss-crossed with countless scars. They covered his skin so any untouched flesh was practically invisible.

But on the back of his right shoulder blade was another scar, this one more noticeable than all the rest. It started where his neck and shoulder met, and ran down in Celtic-looking patterns to the middle of his lower back, and seemed to disappear into his spine. It stood out so clearly because it was a deep, dark, green.

A few seconds ticked by, but Harry didn't seem to notice anything. Tossing his shirt carelessly behind him, he picked up his change of clothes and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

They heard the shower turn on, and Ron and Hermione looked at each other, but neither seemed to know what to say. Hermione had her hand over her mouth. "Oh my God..." she whispered. There were tears in her eyes.

Ron looked more angry than anything. He was staring at the opposite wall, seemingly deep in thought. Finally he broke. A tear or two trickled down his cheek as he whispered harshly. "What the hell did Voldemort do to him?" Hermione gasped again. It was the first time Ron had ever said 'Voldemort'. " It's absolutely disgusting that a man can do that to anyone! Even if he isn't completely a 'man', it's still sick." He then looked at Hermione. "What do you reckon was with that one scar on his back? Why was it green?"

Hermione looked up at Ron. "Well, I was just thinking about that. It's definitely the result of a curse, but I have no idea what kind of curse." She sat a minute while the sounds of the shower drifted through the bathroom door. Then a look of dawning comprehension and fear dawned on her face. Ron glanced at her.

"What is it?"

"I remember reading about a curse once that prevented a man from doing what he loved... I can't remember the details, but bad things would happen if he did that which he was forced to abstain from. What if Voldemort decided to torture Harry one last time by keeping him away from us?"

"Yeah," Ron mumbled. His face was iscrutable. "Dumbledore said that Harry was running away from something. I think we just found out what. He must be running away from us to protect us."

"Exactly." said Hermione. "We need to find a way to counter the curse so that he can come home."

They sat in silence for a while, before Ron burst out angrily "That slimy bastard!" and then he sat quietly.

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"_That slimy bastard!_" I froze as I reached down to turn off the water to the shower.

_What the hell was that?_

I decided to keep the water on. If someone was in the building, they would think that I was still in the shower. As quickly and quietly as I could, I dried off and put on the pants that I had brought in with me. I left my shirt off. If there was someone in the building, well, let's just say I knew how to scare the shit out of people without even trying. I stepped over to the bathroom door, gripped the handle, took a few calming breaths, then threw the door open.

Nothing.

I crept across the room to the door into the tattoo parlour, then thought of something. I crept across the room and reached into my open locker and pulled out one of my new boots. I reached inside to the hidden pocket I had made on the inside of it, and pulled out the knife that I had 'found' shortly after escaping Voldemort. Then I crept back to the door, opened it quietly, and peered around it.

_Still_ nothing.

I walked through the room, looking under every bed.

I started getting frustrated as my search continued to turn up fruitless results.

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Ron and Hermione sat in the corner in the locker room. They were both pale as a sheet of paper. Neither dared to move or speak--they hardly even dared breathe.

Hermione had opened her mouth about to say something when Harry had thrown open the bathroom door, looking for _something._ Had he heard? If he had, how much _had_ he heard?

After a few tense minutes of Harry staring around the room and listening for anything out of the ordinary, he seemed to come to the conclusion that no one was in the locker room.

Harry walked over to a door, then turned and headed back to his locker. They watched as he rummaged around in something hidden from view. The scars on his bare skin stood out clearly in the pale electric light eminating from the wall lamp. At thength he stood up and turned around. There was a knife about the length of Hermione's hand, clutched in his clenched fingers. Hermione went even paler. She closed her eyes and focused on breathing as slowly and as quietly as possible. Ron's eyes, however, were wide and his mouth slightly adjar as he stared at the weapon in his friend's hand. It was obvious that at that moment he had quite forgotten how to breathe.

Harry then headed back to the door and went through it.

They sat in total silence as they heard the silent padding of footsteps traversing the parlour.

After what seemed like hours, Harry came back into the locker room.

He seemed frustrated at the lack of a person spying on him or sneaking around the place. He went to the locker, but instead of putting the knife away, he pulled out a soft leather scabbard for it, put the knife in that, and tucked it into the back of his jeans.

He then walked into the bathroom again, and Ron and Hermione heard the water turn off. When he emerged, He had a dry shirt on. He sat down on a chair at the side of the room and rubbed his hand over his face, muttering to himself.

"Damn, Harry, your turning into Moody." At this, Hermione couldn't help but smile slightly. "It was probably just some bastard kid walkin' 'round with his mates. Get a grip."

He reclined the chair, and settled down for the night.

After a while, Harry's heavy, deep breathing penetrated Ron's and Hermione's ears. They breathed again. Looking silently at each other, they prepared for a long and uncomfortable night.


	6. Chapter 6

Enter: Samantha Grenfield

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I stepped out of my front door into the rainwashed morning, turned and locked my door, then started the two-and-a-half mile trek to work.

The sky was clear of all clouds--the first time in a _long_ time. Birds were chirping and random people walked down the street either heading for work or walking their dogs or just walking or jogging.

I ignored them all. I yawned widely as she walked on. I hadn't slept well at all last night. Thoughts of Harry kept pushing into my subconscious mind and making me worry and feel guilty. Even now, as I crossed an intersection across from a bustling market-place, I wondered if it was right to confront Harry the way that she had.

Thoughts kept drifting through my mind like _Did you see his face when you called him Harry? Well, he might've trusted you before, but fat chance he'll trust you now. _

I bit my lip and skirted around a family from Ireland, who were all talking loudly and fighting over a street map. As I walked past them one of them stopped me.

"Oy! Miss! Could you help us out really fast, please?" One of the older children called. I sighed and turned slowly around. The boy stared at her gothic appearance for a second then said. "Uh...Well, we need to find the Queen Street Station, and these blokes don't know how to work a map, and they won't let me-"

"It's at the end of _Queen Street."_ Sam interrupted him. "On the other side of the City Centre." Then I turned and walked off half ignoring the hurried "Thanks!" as I walked on.

_I have to talk to Harry today. There's no other way to do it. I need to talk to him and say...um...sorry...or something._

I kicked myself mentally.

_Sorry! He's obviously running away from something, Isn't he? And you almost blew his cover! Sure you can tell him you won't tell anyone, but he's not going to believe you unless he sees it. You need a lot more than a 'sorry' girl! You need to tell him **everything**..._

I nearly ran into a wall. Stopping myself just in time, I looked up. I was there.

I grinned to myself a little as I pulled out a key from my pocket and inserted it into the keyhole on the front door to the parlour. I pushed aside all previous thoughts...for now. Maybe today, maybe today I had actually beat Harry to work. Or...James...

I shook my head and stepped through the door.

The front room was empty...

I turned on the lights in the waiting room, then walked behind the front desk and through the next door into the actual parlour.

Everything was untouched and unprepared for the day in here, too.

I laughed out loud. I shouted in a type of victory cheer. "Haha! I finally beat you to work, H--James!"

There was a loud "DAAH!" followed by a _crash!_ in the locker room, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. A moment later, a very disheveled _James_ burst out the door.

When he saw me, he stopped. "Sam! You fucking scared me! Don't do that!"

I started giggling uncontrollably, nearly collapsing onto one of the medical beds. All previous thoughts and worries forgotten.

He frowned down at me. "What're you laughing at?"

"Heeheehee... _you_! Hahahahahaha!" He folded his arms and stared at me.

"It's not _that _funny, you know. Imagine if _you _were sleeping and someone burst in shoutin' some rubbish. You'd probably pass out for fright. So don't go laughing at me."

I fought to control my breathing. After a few seconds, I was able to say, "Yeah, I'm sure, but...well..._I SCARED YOU!_ " and once again I broke into uncontrollable giggles. I didn't know what was wrong with me. If I had scared Derrin or Tom, sure I would laugh, but not like this. Maybe it was because in all his time working here, no matter how hard I or Derrin or Tom tried, we couldn't scare him or pull a prank on him or anything. (Yeah...we kinda joke around a lot.). Or maybe it was the look on his face. He leaned against the door, arms folded, staring at me with a bemused expression on his face. The corner of his lips curled into a smirk. His eyes...

I blushed and turned away from him, still giggling, though a bit quieter.

"Are you takin' the mick?" He asked, amused.

I stopped laughing as my brain caught up with me. Still red in the face I turned and asked him, "You were sleeping?"

He reached up and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah...well,"

"Got here that early did you?" I asked, watching his face. He turned a bit red as he muttered something under his breath.

"What?" I asked.

"Well, if you must know, I, uh, I slept here over the night." He seemed to be challenging me to laugh again if I dared.

"Why'd you sleep here, of all places?" He shrugged, then said, "Well, there's a shower and stuff, a comfortable chair, heating." I heard him mutter "a roof..." so low I was sure e didn't mean for me to hear, but I did.

"Don't...don't you have anywhere else to go?" I asked quietly.

After a minute he shook his head. "Well why didn't you say anything? And don't say 'I didn't want you to worry', 'I don't want to be a liability', 'I didn't want to draw any attention', or 'I didn't want any sympathy or anything'." I said, counting off most of his usual excuses on my fingers.

He seemed to deflate for a moment, then said, "Have you had breakfast?"

I was completely thrown off. "What?"

"Have you had breakfast? I was going to go to the market and get something, but we could go to a cafe or something if you want." I noticed he was blushing a little as he said this.

Butterflies started beating against the inside of my stomach with heavy wings as I blushed a little and said, "Yeah, uh...that sounds good. But you haven't escaped my question, and changing the subject won't help you escape it."

He put up his hands in front of him as if to say 'All right. You win.' and said, "I'm not trying to get out of anything. I'm just hungry."

I rolled my eyes and muttered "boys."

"What? I bet you're hungry, too."

"Not really."

"Oh, come off it. I heard your stomach rumbling a minute ago."

I put my hands on my hips and glared at him. "My stomach did not _rumble._"

"Did to."

"Did not."

"Did to."

"Did _not!_ "

He smirked. "Whatever you say, rumbles." He ducked my swing and headed towards the door. His smile seemed to melt into my brain as I followed him out the door.

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In the corner of the locker room, hidden under an invisibility cloak, Hermione glared daggers at Ron, who was clutching his stomach. It rumbled loudly again.

"What? Do you realize it's been nearly a day since we ate last?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

I stared over at Sam from across the table we were sitting at. She was fidgeting slightly in her seat, and hadn't met my gaze since we got here. I looked down at my cup of tea.

We had ended up going to a little coffee shop about a five minute walk from the parlour.

"Um, J-James." My gaze shot up to her face. Her cheeks turned red and she dropped her eyes slightly.

_What is up with her? I mean--wait a minute..._

"Yeah?" I urged her on warily.

"Well," she fidgeted some more. "I wanted to talk to you about, um," and more. "About last night." She finished it very fast, almost tumbling over her own words.

I sighed with relief. "All right."

"Well, I wondered if you were, well, if you were angry at me."

"Why would I be angry at you?"

"I found out about your secret." she looked almost ashamed of herself.

"Look." I told her, and her eyes met mine. "Someone was bound to find out sooner or later, right? I'm just glad it was you, and that you told me."

She seemed taken aback. "You mean, you're not mad at me?"

I snorted. "Of course not. You saw an ad on the television and put two and two together. What's there to be mad about?"

She smiled and said quietly, "That's good. I thought you wouldn't trust me anymore or not want to talk to me anymore or something."

I rolled my eyes. "Seriously Sam. I wouldn't be angry with you. You're like, my best friend since I joined with the parlour." I pushed a few unwanted memories to the back of my mind, and continued. "To tell you the truth, I'm actually relieved that you found out. I know that I can talk to you about it. It just feels better knowing that you know and that you won't tell."

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(Enter Sam)

I couldn't believe it. He wasn't mad! He still trusted me! He actually said it made him feel better with me knowing his secret!

...He said that I was his _best friend!_

Aaaaahhh, I was walking on the moon.

"Sam?" My eyes shot to his face. I must have been zoning...

"Yeah?" He gave me a wyrd look for a second, then said, "Sorry, you just seemed to be zoning off. Did you sleep well last night? You look tired."

_Those eyes..._

I snapped out of it and shrugged. "Well, I didn't sleep too well, but I'm just happy that you're not angry at me."

He seemed to e considering me for a moment, then said slowly, "Right."

_Was there a hint of sarcasm in that?_

He continued after a short pause. "We should get back. It's 9:45. Shop opens soon, we need to get everything ready."

"Yeah, you're right. Let's go."

And we set off towards work.

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(Enter Harry)

That's it. I was officially freaked out. It was beyond obvious. Every time I looked over at her across the room as we worked, or when I walked through the waiting room while she was behind the desk, she was staring at me.

I mean _staring_ at me.

Uuugh...girls.

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After work, Sam decided to head straight home, while Derrin and I hung out. Before leaving, she mumbled something under her breath that no one could hear before blushing madly and hurrying out the door.

Derrin and I stared at each other for a moment before he said, "Man, I think she-"

"Likes me?" I interrupted. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

He laughed. "I mean, blimey! I've never seen her like that around _anyone!_ And I've known her since she was six! She usually lives up to her look. I-if you know what I mean..."

"Yeah." I sighed. "Phweee. Ever had a girlfriend, mate?"

He seemed to be thinking for a second before answering, "Once. Her name was Pavarti. She was one in a million... didn't much like her sister, though..."

I went bug-eyed. Sitting up straight in my chair, I asked Derrin in an amused voice

"Pavarti? Pavarti Patil?"

He sat up a little straighter, too. "How did you know that?"

I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing. Derrin stared at me, perplexed.

"What in the bloody hell is so funny?"

"Hahahahaha...Ooooh...hehehehe..." I sighed, regaining my breath.

"Sorry, mate. Only I went to school with her and, well...small world, isn't it?"

He stared at me suspiciously for a moment before saying slowly, "You went out with her, didn't you?"

I laughed again, though at as loud or as long as before. "Hell no. But my friend Ron--" I cut off, then said in a lower, calmer tone, "well, he went to a ball with her once. Don't worry though, she didn't like it one bit."

Derrin seemed to know that something was troubling me. So he tried to cheer me up in a way that only he would've thought of.

"Want to go to the graveyard?"

I looked up at him. "What?"

"Want to go to the graveyard? It's supposed to be haunted. I've only been there once. Didn't see anything though. You and I should go up and sneak in tonight."

Without warning, memories of Ron wafted through my mind, how he would be vehemently refusing this offer with pale features.

_Well, he's in your past now, right?_

"All right." I said with a slight grin.

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As the two boys headed out the door, one locking it behind them, the office of the parlour remained quiet.

The two boys disappeared down the street.

There was a rusting of an unseen cloth and two bodies appeared in the middle of the office.

Hermione had grabbed Ron by the wrist and was attempting to drag him to the door.

"Come on, Ron. Let's go! We'll lose them!" she hissed through clenched teeth.

But Ron refused to move. With a pale face, he said to Hermione, "I'm not going to some bloody graveyard! And I think Harry's gone mental! I mean, after what happened last time he visited one..."

"Oh, Ron, get a grip! Listen to yourself! If Harry can go into a graveyard after what happened when Voldemort came back, then _you_ can! Nothing's ever happened to you in a graveyard before so why are you scared? Come on!"

After much persuading and no luck, she finally sighed, gripped Ron's wrist even harder, and disapperated.

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Derrin and I were both walking through gravestones and memorials. It all seemed to have a serene, gothic beauty to it. I felt very, comfortable here. I didn't make sense. But whatever.

Maybe I was in good company. I had been unofficially dead for over a year.

As Derrin and I walked past a particularly large statue of an angel, he said in a hushed voice, "Creepy, eh?"

"Not really. I think I rather like it."

He gave me a wyrd look, then muttered, "Yeah. Well, you_ would._"

I had just opened my mouth to reply, when several things happened at once. There was a loud _crack! _behind us and we both spun on our heels to see what had caused the disturbance. Before we had gotten half-way, however, my world was enveloped in green. Evidently Derrin's was too, for I could faintly here him shouting as if from an echo. "-the bloody fucking hell is going on?"

Then a hauntingly familiar voice sounded in my ear. "I warned you, didn't I? You can never see them again. You let them find you, didn't you boy? Hehehe, typical. For what is Harry Potter without his dear friends?"

The green turned red, no. It was beyond red. The light surrounding Derrin and I turned a deep, dark crimson. With the almost purple tinge of blood. Pain coursed through my body and I screamed. Derrin screamed, too. It was pain so intense that I felt as if every cell were being attacked by rust dull needles. But in no place was the pain so intense than on my back. It felt as if it were being ripped apart slowly and tortuously. the pain defeated that of even the cruciatus curse. Derrin's screams seemed to halt and I could vaguely feel him twitching on the ground beside me.

I fell, or maybe I had always been on the ground. But the lights faded, and I was left in a deserted graveyard. A faint chuckle echoed through my mind before my world, too, turned to darkness, and I fell into the warm embrace of unconsciousness.


	8. Chapter 8

(Poem- Bangin' my Rusty Cage written by suicide denied)

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_(Beat my spirit raw_

_tore my insides out_

_dejected my soul_

_left my heart to rot)_

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chains...

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blood...

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a dirty dank cold stone cell...

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_(Choking on failure_

_sullen tears of madness_

_drowning in sorrow_

_dying from this sadness)_

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harsh cold laughter...

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a hissing voice...

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_"You knew I would come for you. You knew you couldn't hide behind Dumbledore forever. You knew you would have to face reality someday, didn't you boy?"_

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something whistling through the air towards a grounded figure

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_swiiiish-CRACK!_

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_(Torn and bitter_

_dwell in realms of hate_

_Suffocating fears_

_that you helped create)_

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_"You are nothing without your friends to save you. You cannot defeat me. Fourteen years. Fourteen years of hell you put me through, and here's my chance to get a little, compensation..."_

a flash of blue light, a crumbling wall.

a leg caught in the way.

_CRUNCH!_

_"_AAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

silence...

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...cold red eyes staring through the dark, getting closer. closer. closer...

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...closer...

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...closer...

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..._"You. Will. Pay."_

_CRACK!_

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_(In my sea of misery_

_I bang my rusty cage_

_Years of acid tears_

_Made it this way_

_I'm gonna bust out_

_one of these days_

_learn how to swim_

_and you'll fuckin' pay...)_

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_**FLASH!**_

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I sat up straight, panting, gasping for breath. My lungs felt like they were on fire.

A cool breeze blew against me, and I suddenly shivered. My clothes were plastered to my body by cold sweat.

Something caught my eye, and I looked down at my hand. it was covered in a dark crimson substance.

Blood.

I stared at it a moment as realization of what it was sunk into my foggy mind.

_But where did it come from?_

I looked up and around me. There were headstones all around me, and I was puzzled for a moment until I realized I was sitting in a graveyard.

_A graveyard? But- how?_

It was sunny out, and I had to squint to see my surroundings.

I tried standing up, but fell with a cry of pain as my back seemed to erupt in agonizing, burning pain.

When my vision cleared and my breath returned, I looked down at my torso, only to see that nothing looked wrong. I reached a hand around tentatively and rubbed my back. With a hiss of pain I retracted my arm and looked at my fingers. There was fresh blood.

And then I remembered the scar.

_The _scar.

And with this revelation came back memories of the past year and a half or so of my life; it was as if a dam had crumbled in my mind and these images rushing past behind my eyes were floodwaters desperate to escape.

I put my hands over my face to slow the onrush of images, but it only seemed to speed them up.

_A house in ruins._

_Rushing figures in white._

_Cell after cell after cell of screaming bleeding dying captives._

_Pain._

_Torture that would sometimes last all day and well into the night._

_Sorrow._

_Loss._

_"You can never see them again, boy. NEVER. Let's see how long you can go without breaking. Without your precious friends..."_

_Anger._

_Hatred._

_A burning desire to get away, then come back more powerful than anyone would ever expect and kill the demon who put me through hell. Who put so many people through hell._

_Determination. _

_Sitting in a cold cell plotting, planning, **wishing**_.

_Teaching myself to disapperate._

_Breaking wood._

_Shattering stones._

_Flying spells and curses._

_Pain._

_Anger._

_Screams and shouting._

_Getting far enough away to disapperate._

_Running._

_With constant hissing laughter echoing in the back of my mind._

_Running for days to get away from everything. _

_My pain._

_My fear._

_Myself._

_Never looking back, never looking forward._

_Never daring to use **any** magic in case it led anyone to me._

_Faces. So many faces._

_Walking into Glasgow._

_Meeting Sam, Derrin, and Tom._

_How Sam and Derrin had always reminded me somewhat of the friends I had left behind._

Then Ron and Hermione's faces appeared in my mind, so bright and clear that everything else became meaningless.

But then, another, more hazy memory bubbled up to the surface.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. My lips parted in molasses-like motion.

_They were there. Last night. I saw them. Right before I passed out. But--how? Why?_

Well, the 'why' was easy enough. They were my best friends. But----

So many questions and thoughts raced through my mind it hurt.

It all stopped suddenly as I heard a soft moan beside me.

Looking over, I saw Derrin lying on his back on the ground next to me. He was unconscious, but waking up.

I slid myself over until I could touch him. My back still hurt terribly. The scar must have ripped open or something. But that wasn't important now. I reached over and touched Derrin's shoulder lightly.

"Derrin," My voice seemed even more strained and scratchy then before. "Derrin, wake up, mate."

He groaned again and opened his eyes reluctantly. As he seemed to become more aware of his surroundings, he sat up suddenly, making me jump.

"What the bloody 'ell 'appened?" He said so fast I had to think about what he said before I understood a word of it.

"Uh, I dunno." I shrugged slightly, winced and sat still. I hadn't _completely _lied to him. I knew what caused whatever happened, but I sure as hell didn't know what had happened to us.

"I swear to God," he murmured, looking around. "I am _never, ever_ goin' to a graveyard _EVER _again!"

He proceeded to ramble on about 'bloody ghouls tryin' to kill us all' as he slowly got to his feet. He stopped when he saw me still sitting on the ground.

"What's up? Don't you want to get the hell out of here? Why're you still on the ground?"

I looked up at him and thought for a second before saying slowly, "Well, I would love to waltz right out of this mess, but it seems I got the rotten end of the deal."

he gave me a wyrd look. "What're you ta--" He noticed the now dried blood on my hand. "Where'd that blood come from?" he asked tentatively.

I pointed to my back. Derrin slowly stepped around me, almost scared of what he would find. When he saw the patterned bloody rips in the back of my shirt he gasped, jumped backwards, then swore as he landed in a bush with spikes.

"'the hell happened to you!"

I chuckled a little at his reaction, then said. "It must be those bloody ghosts, eh?" And then, after a pause, "Does it look bad?"

Derrin was staring at my back.

"We need to get you to a hospital, mate. It looks deep. But, how is it in a pattern like this? I mean, I know we're in Scotland and all, but what's withthe celtic runes cut into your back?"

I shrugged again. The pain was starting to ebb away. Slowly.

"Come on mate. I'll help you." He stepped towards me and put out his hand. "We need to get out of here and get you some help."

I slowly reached up and grasped his hand. The pain couldn't be too bad once I got up, could it?

He pulled me to my feet, which was an excrutiating process in and of itself. But once I was on my feet, leaning against Derrin for support, the pain seemed to dull a lot, proving my predictions right.

_Me: 1. Voldemort: ... Never mind._

Derrin held me up as we hobbled together out of the graveyard.

After what seemed hours, we arrived at a street. Cars drove by, people walked down the sidewalks, all seemingly too interested in their own affairs to notice us. Derrin tried calling out to a few, but they all ignored him.

We both glanced up as we heard a large group of people walking straight toward us. They were all American.

"Oy! Think you could give us a hand?" Derrin waved at those leading the group. They continued chatting on.

"Oh my God! Did you see how cute that tour guide was when he led us through that castle? And that accent! Whew! I love it here!"

One of the girls was talking animatedly to her friend.

"HEY! WE COULD USE SOME HELP HERE!" Derrin shouted, now completely frustrated. I was silent, my mouth slightly agape. A thought had just occurred to me. A horribly frightening revelation.

Derrin grew wide-eyed as the group came so close they were bound to run us over if hey didn't move.

"Watch where you're goin', people! Can't you see I have an injured friend here?"

They continued to ignore him.

My breath was coming in short gasps now. I was beginning to hyperventilate.

Derrin winced as the front line of people came, expecting an impact.

But none came.

They were walking _through _us.

Derrin yelped in shock.

We were ghosts.


	9. Chapter 9

"Derrin. D-Derrin! Shut up a mi- DERRIN! SHUT THE HELL UP FOR A MOMENT WILL YOU?"

My friend stopped pacing and rambling for a second and looked at me, startled.

After a group of American tourists had walked _through us _a minute or two before, he had freaked. I was sitting against the cemetery fence, with my sore back against the cool metal.

"What?" Derrin asked me. He was extremely pale. Go figure. "How do you expect me to react? People are walking through us James! Is that normal to you or something!"

I sighed. "First of all, _stop yelling_. It's not helping anything. And second...um...my name i-isn't James."

_Boi-oi-oi-oing! _Derrin's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. He sat down hard on the ground and put his head in his hands.

"How could you not be James? Why would you pretend to be someone? What really happened to you? What the _hell is GOING ON?" _He sounded like he was about to crack.

I sighed and rubbed a hand through my hair. "Okay. I guess since we're stuck here for a while, I should tell you what I know. Where do you want me to start?" I tried not to let my apprehension show.

This was hard. Really hard. I did not even want to think about this topic. But fair is fair, right? Now I had dragged Derrin, one of my best friends, into my hell, and he had a right to know as much as I did, no matter how much it hurt to relive the past...

"Why don't we start with introductions, eh?" He sounded like he was going mad. Once again I was strongly reminded of Ron. "Hi! My name is Derrin MacKinnen. Now friend, who the fuck are you?"

I chuckled. "Okay. The sarcasm isn't helping anything. My uh, my _real_ name is Harry Potter. I used the name James because that was my father's name. I--_what?_"

Derrin was staring at me with a strange look on his face. "_Harry Potter?_ But isn't that-"

"Yes. I'm the boy missing from London. Are you with me so far? Good. Because now it's going to start getting really weird. I would like it if you didn't interrupt me. You might not understand everything, but that's all right. I just need to get the main point across..."

So we sat there for a few hours, me talking and Derrin listening. He sat down next to me to lean against the fence. I told him of being a wizard and of Hogwarts and my friends. He seemed incredulous at first, but then he seemed to sit back to enjoy a 'good story' or something. I explained about Voldemort and his followers, the Deatheaters.

After about an hour of talking, Derrin finally spoke up. "Yeah, yeah, that's all good and fine. But you still haven't said how you ended up _here_. I mean, they posted those ads over a year ago, and they said that there was no way you would run away; it was a definite kidnapping. So, what happened to you? Where did those scars come from, eh? Why are you all the way up here in Scotland, rather than down in London? I want to hear that part."

I hesitated for a second.

_Now, the really tough part..._

"...right. Um, well, when I got kidnapped, I had just gotten home for the summer. Well, not home, but to the Dursleys, you know. I had gone out for a walk to get away from them. I got about two miles away from the house when I was surrounded by about twenty or so death-eaters. I was stunned before I had a chance to think. When I woke up, I was in a dark stone cell."

I shuddered as I thought of the cell--freezing cold, pitch black most of the time, the constantly dripping water that could drive anyone insane, the-- "Ja-Harry?"

I looked up. Derrin was looking at me, worried. "Are you all right?"

I sighed and pushed the images to the back of my head. "Yeah."

I sat silent for another second before starting up again. "Anyways, long story short, I got tortured pretty much every day for information about Dumbledore and the Order, and stuff like that. When that didn't work, he tried to poison me against them and join him, like that would ever happen anyways, and when _that_ didn't work, he said that if I wouldn't speak, I didn't deserve a voice, blah blah blah, that's kind of how I got this scar." I pointed to my neck.

"Kind of?"

"Well, yeah. It didn't work, did it? Anothrer time he just said I was annoying with all the screaming and swearing and stuff so he tried again. I honestly don't know how I'm still able to talk- the git's a bloody butcher. Anyway, I made sure to keep quiet after that. He wanted me to break, you know, so I would join him, betray Dumbledore and the Order, as well as all my friends. I didn't. So he said I didn't deserve to go back to them or the life I loved so he cursed me. That's the patterned scar on my back that ripped open last night. I had no idea what the scar could do if I went back to my friends. All I knew is that it would hurt them as well as me. Well I had to protect them, right? So I ran. That's how I ended up here, and it's because of that scar we're in this mess right now."

"But how did you escape? You never said."

I looked at Derrin and thought a minute. "Well, did I tell you what disapperating is?"

"No."

"Well, it's when you can disappear from one spot and magically reappear in another. Like, You could cross the street by disapperating, or you could cross countries, as long as you stopped at a few waypoints along the way."

Derrin's eyes got a sparkle in them suddenly. "You mean that you could just magically disappear then reappear wherever you want?"

"Pretty much."

"Think you could teach me?"

I chuckled. "Sorry, mate. Only witches and wizards can learn."

Derrin looked dejected. "Why do witches and wizards get to have all the fun? I mean, this place is so _boring _compared to what you've told me about. Dragons, trolls, werewolves, dementors, magic schools, I mean, that is so _awesome!_ I'd give anything to be able to do some of the stuff that you do! Quiddich makes football sound completely boring, and that's sayin' a lot!"

I laughed hollowly. "Yeah, well, it was incredible. Still is, though I can't go back. And about doing some of the stuff that I have, looks like you might be dragged into one of my _adventures_, as you put it. Hell, you already have."

We sat in silence for another minute before Derrin coughed and said, "Sorry, please continue."

"What?"

"_How did you escape?_"

"Oh. Right. Anyways, I got so angry when I was in there. I had always hated Voldemort, but now, I _loathed_ him. You can imagine why. I pretended to be angry at Dumbledore instead. I twisted my own mind to make him believe it. But I would practically boil inside whenever I saw him. It makes me sick to think I used that tactic, but looking back, it was the only way. So since Voldemort figured I was getting closer to his side, he would take me into the main hall where all the Death-Eaters would be gathered and ask me all sorts of questions. If I didn't answer like he wanted, he would either torture me or let a few of the Death-Eaters have a go at me. But every day they took me out there, they led me through a hallway. It was two stories off the ground; I could tell because there were windows along the wall. Four of them. After a few weeks, I had a plan set. Voldemort believed he was 'breaking' me. So after a while, he would only send two or three gaurds to come fetch me from my cell. One day when they came, there was only one. I knew that it was 'now or never'. It never occurred to me that Voldemort might have just been testing my loyalty to him, but even if I had, I don't think it would have stopped me. I walked along with the guard, and when we reached the first window, I turned and punched the guard as hard as I could, right in the nose. I guess all the anger sorta helped, because he was unconscious before he hit the ground. I ran and jumped through the window. The rest is kind of foggy, because I was running on pure adrenaline. I had to; there was nothing else for my body to run on. Anyway, I remember people chasing me, shouting and throwing curses at my back. I don't know how I avoided them, but I did. When I judged I was far enough from the mansion where I was being kept, I disapperated. I had never done it before, and I couldn't tell you how I did it if I wanted to. I was really lucky I didn't splinch myself."

"Splinch?"

"Yeah, it's when you leave part of yourself behind."

Derrin went bug-eyed.

"But that's how I got away. About a day or two afterward, I realized tat they wouldn't be chasing me, because Voldemort was still torturing me. He knows me too well."

"What do you mean?"

I bit my lip. "Well, as one of my friends put it so nicely, I have a, uh, 'saving people thing'. Voldemort knew that I wouldn't risk going back to everyone if I knew it would hurt them. I honestly don't care if I die or not. But I made an oath that I would kill Voldemort. I know I'm the only one who can. So if I snuff it afterwards, I don't care, as long as he goes before me..."

I sat there staring into nothingness as my voice trailed away. Derrin looked at me warily, and seemed to recoil slightly at the cold glint in my eyes.

"You don't mean that, do you?" He looked extremely worried. "I mean, you want to see your friends again, right?"

The glint in my eyes faded as their usual emptiness returned. "Of course I do. But I guess it just that, well, I've been though so much already, I don't care any more. I've been a wildcard for too long. Dumbledore wants to use me against Voldemort, Voldemort wants to use me against Dumbledore, I mean, how much can one person do? It drives me nuts how people always used to look at me. Like I was some sort of hero or something. Just because Voldemort killed my parents and couldn't kill me! I was famous because of Voldemort's stupidity. Now we're linked by the curse that was supposed to kill me and I'm the only one who can kill him. I'm his number one enemy, while everyone else adores me. _I'm just so sick of it!_"

I was practically snarling now. Derrin looked sacred, but he shuddered forth "Uhm, well, that's uh, exactly the kind of attitude you should have,"

I shot him a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about kind of look and he continued-"Only save it for Voldemort, okay? 'Cuz you're really scary when you're mad. Just promise me one thing."

I laughed then said "What?"

"I'm going to help you. You have to let me help you."

My expression hardened. "I can't let you do that."

He shrugged. "I don't see why not. We're friends, right?"

"Right..."

"And we're stuck here together, right?"

"Right..."

"Well, why wouldn't I help? I should be able to."

"Well...I...you can't just...rrrrgh...you don't understand!"

Derrin smiled. A voice in the back of my head uttered '_wow Ron, your hair turned brown and you've lost your freckles!_ '

"I'm helping you, an' that's that!"

"But-"

"Oh shut up Harry. I've heard enough angsting for a lifetime. Instead of talking and being sorry for yourself-" I shot him a furious look. "-and acting all noble by trying to 'protect me' why don't you do something abut it, eh? We're stuck here, so let's make the best of it, then get the hell out. I don't know about you, but I would really like to be noticed again."

I sat there as Derrin stood up and looked me in the eye. I was flabbergasted. He put his hand out to me.

"What do you say, Harry? Want to get and get some revenge and get back home where you belong?"

Slowly, my mouth split into a wide smile. Taking his hand, I said in a determined voice, "Hell yes."

Surprisingly, my back didn't hurt at all as he helped me up. But before we started walking, I stopped him.

"Derrin?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."


	10. Chapter 10

Sam walked down the cobblestone streets towards the tattoo parlour. She seemed happy--more happy than her black and purple outfit, tattoos, and various peircings seemed to portray.

She practically skipped up the front steps and through the door of the parlour.

Tom looked up, startled. "Samantha?"

"Sam. Sorry I'm late, Tom. I must've overslept. Won't happen again." It was almost a giggle.

"Yeah, well, seems ta be a trend today." The older man mumbled, shaking off the girls unusual giddiness.

Sam, who had been about halfway through the door to the back room, froze.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, you're the firs' one in today. Derrin an' James haven' shown yet."

Sam was startled. 'James' late for work? Derrin was understandable, but Harry?

"I wonder why..."

"Well, we 'ave a large group comin' in, an' until they choose to pop in, we're alone. So let's get ready to go, shall we?"

"Uhm, y-yeah." Sam suddenly seemed distracted. What could keep Harry from showing up? It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go... And as harsh as that sounded, it was true. So where was he now?

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"Ron, wake up. _Ron_..."

A sharp rap on the head, shortly followed by a moan.

"Gods Hermione, what was that for?"

"You needed to wake up. I don't know how long we were out. And I have no idea where Harry is."

"What?" Ron sat up and looked around. They were sitting in the middle of a graveyard. It took a second before Ron remembered their apparition last night to try and catch up with Harry. They appeared in the middle of the graveyard. There was that startling second when thy both realized that the invisibility cloak was still at the parlour, then the even more horrifying second when Ron and Harry had locked eyes. Then greenish white light, terrible pain, and darkness.

But what the hell had happened to them? What the hell had happened to Harry and the other boy, Derrin?

"Hermione, what happened?" Was all Ron could think of saying at the moment.

At these words, however, Hermione fixed Ron with a glare that could melt ice. He actually started backing away.

"You were seen." She spat.

"What?"

"He saw you, and you know it. That's why you were out longer. You and Harry made eye contact."

Ron's face twisted. "I know that, but you can't blame me, can you? _We_ forgot the invisibility cloak, didn't we? So he could've seen you just as easily. And that still doesn't answer my question. _What happened?_"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He saw you, and that must have triggered the curse. Since he only saw you, you were affected the most out of us two. I imagine Harry got off a lot worse, so now we really need to find him."

Ron sat there digesting this information for a while then said, "Well, Hermione. What use is it to follow him now?" He continued quickly before Hermione could cut him off. "I mean, yeah, it would be good to find him again so we know where he is, but then what? We can't do anything to help him just by following him around, can we? We should contact Dumbledore and research the curse that caused this. That's the only way we would be able to help him, right? I'm tired of doing nothing to help him."

"But we were helping him," Hermione protested. It was obvious she knew Ron was right, she just didn't want to agree.

Ron snapped. "How, Hermione? We need to _really_ help him. And you know I'm right. I'm tired of arguing with you, you know that? We need to decide on a course of action and stick to it. Okay? So what'll it be? We actually do something to help Harry, or we tag along behind watching him suffer and doing nothing about it."

Hermione's face was red. Apparently she never thought that Ron could take charge like that. After a minute of awkward silence, she nodded. Her eyes seemed watery.

"Okay Ron. We'll contact Dumbledore then find out everything we can about the curse. I know that that's the only way to help Harry."

Ron's face softened. He took a step forward with his arms out and Hermione collapsed into them, crying. "Shhhh. It's okay, Hermione. We'll find something. We'll help Harry. We just need to be sure we're always on the same page. It'll make things so much easier."

"I kn-know," she sobbed quietly. "I'm just so s-scared..." her voice trailed off.

Ron rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I know 'Mione, I'm scared too. But we need to stay strong. And we need to be able to support one another if we plan on supporting Harry when we find a way to help him. Let's just take it one step at a time, right? We'll start by contacting Dumbledore, then move on from there. 'Kay?"

In Ron's safe and warm embrace, Hermione took a deep, calming breath, and nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

"So, ummm," Derrin glanced down at me as I leaned on him for support. We were walking down a sidewalk leading into the Glasgow City Centre. "If we _are_ ghosts, how d'you suppose we're gonna eat? I'm famished."

I thought for a second, suddenly realizing I was also extremely hungry at his words. "You know, I don't know if we're actually ghosts."

"Huh? S'not every day you turn invisible to the world, you know."

"Yeah, but we're both hungry, right?"

"Yes...very."

"Ghosts don't eat."

"I know, but--" His voice died off as he tried to think of a reply.

"And as far as I know, Ghosts don't bleed, either. Sure, they can be covered in blood after they die, but _ghosts_ don't bleed. And I don't think they can feel pain physically."

"How do you kno-- Oh, wait, never mind. So why d'you reckon we're invisible and all, well, walk-throughish and stuff?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. But we'd better find a way to get food soon or we're in trouble."

"Yeah!" Derrin exclaimed. He slowed up a bit and looked down at me. "I'm getting dizzy already! I haven't even had breakfast yet!"

_Oh Roooon, I have found your long lost twin._

I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, let's go to the nearest corner market. They're usually packed full around this time of day. If we _can_ pick stuff up, it'll be harder to notice if something goes missing."

"Okay! But-" He stopped short, and we both halted our walk. "What about after? After we find out we can or can't eat, what'll we do then?"

"Ummm," Usually I would go to Dumbledore, but if a glimpse of Ron did this, imagine what walking into Hogwarts would do to us!

We started walking again, and Derrin, seeing me in deep concentration, kept silent.

_Think, think, think, oh come on, Harry. You've been in worse scraps than this. So, how the hell are you going to get out of this one? Can't go to Dumbledore... wait a minute..._

My mind went back to the night, when _Ron_ and my eyes had met for that split second before the curse took action.

_Ron is here. In Glasgow. Hermione's probably here too. I can't see him getting this far without her...So if I find them, but no. I can't see them again. Who knows what'll happen? Damn it Voldemort... I swear to God..._

I became increasingly frustrated as I realized just how helpless I was. I couldn't do _shit!_ And it was really pissing me off. I couldn't see anyone who I knew. I couldn't go for help...

_I can't go for help... but_

"Derrin." I spoke suddenly, startling him.

"Daaah!" He regained his breath and his nerve before saying, "What?"

"I have a little experiment for you, okay?"

He gave me a suspicious look, and after a second said, "Go on."

"Well, whether or not we can eat, we're still in a jam here, right? We need to find help somehow."

"Yeah!"

"But I can't go."

"Why not?"

I ignored him for a moment and said, "But _you_ can."

Once again we stopped. I could hear the voices of many people around the corner at the market place.

He stared at me. "What do you mean, 'but you can'? I don't know where any of the places you told me about are, except London, and that's a _little _far away if you hadn't noticed. And how come you can't go for help? Why--"

"Will you shut it for a moment?"

Derrin immediately fell silent.

"_I _can't go for help, but _you_ can. I can't go anywhere where I might recognize somebody. I think I know what set off the curse last night. You remember I told you about Ron and Hermione?"

Derrin looked confused, but answered, "Yeah, they're your friends, right? From Hogwarts?"

"Yeah. They're my best friends in the world, besides you and Sam, of course. But that's not the point. I saw Ron last night. Before the curse went off. He just kind of appeared a few tombstones away. So that's why I think Hermione is here too, because I don't think Ron can apperate yet. But who knows, I haven't seen him in over a year. But them being here, and you being stuck in this with me gives us an advantage."

"Yo want me to go and find them, and see if they can help us without them coming to find you."

"Exactly."

He took a deep breath, then said, clapping his hands together, "Right. We have a plan. But first, let's eat."

"If we can."

"Shush. You just have to ruin it, don't you?"

"Hell yes. Didn't you know? I live off misery."

"I could tell."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron and Hermione walked down the sidewalk together at a fast pace.

Voices could be heard around the corner. It sounded almost like a street market.

Ron skirted around a random person walking down the sidewalk, who had been totally absorbed in his own thoughts and had not even noticed Ron.

"Watch it, you!" Ron said angrily as he jumped to the side to avoid a collision.

The man ignored him and kept walking. Ron rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up with Hermione. "So, how do you plan to contact Dumbledore?"

She slowed down to let him catch up. He slowed to a walk as he reached her side, and she said, "Well, I was thinking we could go back to the tattoo shop where Harry works and get our invisibility cloak back, then, break into a house and use the fireplace. We have floo powder, it's in my backpack."

But then she stopped suddenly, and after a few steps, Ron realized she had halted, and stopped, too. "What?"

Hermione raised a hand over her mouth. "The invisibility cloak!"

"What about it?"

"We left it in the shop! Someone must have found it by now!" She consulted her wristwatch. "It's one o'clock now, so the shop's been open for three hours or so now!"

Ron slapped a palm over his forehead. "So much for that plan."

They both looked at each other.

They were so deep in thought, that Ron was unable to jump back to avoid the collision of another random person walking down the sidewalk.

"Aaaagh!" Hermione and Ron looked at each other, both fairly pale. "Hermione," Ron gulped. "Did that person just walk _through me?_ "

Shaking slightly, she swallowed, and nodded.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the parlour, Sam and Tom were working hard, trying to serve a group of twelve teenage boys who had come in together for their first tattoos. Fortunately for Sam, she was so busy she had very little time to think about her two missing friends, one in particular.

After about five solid hours of work, she finally got a break, while Tom finished up the last tattoo for the group. She sat in the back room with the lockers, sitting in an armchair and drinking a soda. After a few minutes, something caught her eye.

Setting the drink down on the table next to her, she got up and walked to the other side of the room. Kneeling down, she observed what looked like a silvery silky cloak, lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. She picked it up, marveling at how light and soft it was.

"Hey Tom." She called into the other room.

"Yeah?" came the gruff reply.

The low buzz of the tattoo needle filled the room.

"Did you leave a cloak on the floor back here?" She rubbed the silky material between her forefinger and thumb.

"No. Must be James' or Derrin's"

"Okay."

She turned and unlocked Harry's locker and placed the cloak gently inside, before closing and locking the door. She doubted Derrin owned anything _this _nice. She had been to his house before.

"Sam, I think someone just walked in."

"Coming!"

'Of all the days not to show up.' She thought to herself as she headed out to the front room where a couple in their early twenties.

'And they had to pick this one...'


	12. Chapter 12

"All right, here we go."

Derrin held his breath as I reached towards an apple on a table in the shopping square.

My hand was three inches...

two inches...

one inch...

I was making it agonizingly slow, just to bug Derrin. His face was actually quite funny. I stopped my hand at half an inch from the fruit. I knew I was torturing myself, But watching Derrin compensated for it.

"Oh come on you idiot! Just grab it already!"

"Oh, I don't know..."

"Screw it!" He lunged forward to grab the apple. His hand sunk right through the table, leaving the fruit in question untouched. Out of surprise, he lost his balance and fell forward, sinking through the table completely.

My heart sunk. I hadn't really expected to be able to eat, but it was disappointing all the same.

I glanced down at my friend, who was still sitting on the ground under the table, the top of his head comically sticking up through the table's surface. He looked horror struck.

After a moment, he put his head in his hands and muttered "Aw, _man_! That bloody sucks!"

I sighed, and said, "Yeah. But now we know we can't eat, we need to find a way out of this soon."

_If it's even possible to get out of this situation..._

"How?"

"I told you before," I gestured. "I can't find Ron and Hermione because of the curse, but you should be able to, without anything happening."

He moved out from under the table, but stayed sitting on the ground beside me.

"What d'you want me to do?"

I thought a second, then said slowly, "Well, I can't see them because I don't know what'll happen."

"So use a blindfold, why don't you?"

"Nah, I don't think it'll work. D'you remember what they look like? I think I told you."

"Ummm, not really."

"Well, Ron has bright red hair and freckles everywhere. He's pretty tall; last I saw him he was about half a head taller than me. Hermione has really bushy brown hair, and she's kinda pretty. You'll know 'cuz they'll be together."

"Okay..."

"Now, what if I wait here in the square and you go out and see if you can find them."

"But how will that work? We're invisible, remember?"

I opened my mouth to speak, then closed it again. After a second, I opened it again, and said, "Well, in the offchance they got caught in the curse like you did, um, they might be in the same situation. I mean, it's worth a try, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so. There's not much we can do anyway. So, you'll just wait here then?"

"Yeah, sure. Unless, how 'bout this. I'll go and wait in the tattoo parlour, back in the locker room. If you find them and they happen to be like us, then, ummm, you take them to the front room or something, then come and tell me. If they aren't like us, then run and tell me, allright?"

"Uh, yeah. Allright. But what if I can't find them?"

I thought a second, then said with a sigh, "I dunno. If you don't have any luck, then come back after a couple of hours and tell me."

He got up, then glared at me suspiciously. "And you're just gonna sit there and do nothing, eh?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not. I have my own experiments that I want to try."

He smirked before walking off down the road. "So what, you wanna spy on Sam when she goes into the bathroom or something? Shame, Harry."

I growled, "Not. Funny."

But he had already turned the corner.

So, sighing, I turned and headed to the parlour.


	13. Chapter 13

"Orange hair, freckles. Orange hair, freckles. Orange hair- Uhm, R-Ron, is that you?" A teenager with orange hair walked through him. There was no girl accompanying him down the street. "Okay, I'll take that as a 'no'."

Derrin continued his frantic search through the streets for Harry's elusive friends.

He walked up and down the cobblestone roads, sometimes calling out to random people in the hopes that they might be able to hear him, and other times jogging up to someone to get a better look at their features.

So far, however, his searching had proven completely fruitless. It didn't seem this 'Ron' character was anywhere around.

Derrin was getting more agitated by the minute. Everywhere he looked there seemed to be people with blazing red hair, or bushy brown hair.

"Rrrrgh..." He mumbled to himself as he looked, "He could've been a _little_ more specific...Oh this is going to take _forev--_" He stopped as he noticed a couple of teenagers in front of him a ways. He looked at each head in turn. Red, brown. Red, brown. Red, brown.

He held his breath, then stepped forward so he could hear what they were saying to one another.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So, uhmmm, we're in a pretty deep pile of it, aren't we?"

"What do you mean, Ron?"

"Well, how're we to contact Dumbledore or find Harry if we're both invisible?"

Hermione thought a second, then shrugged. "I don't know," she seemed to deflate slightly with the confession. "But we have to think of something."

There was a gasp behind them, and they both turned to see a boy standing there, looking through them. Ron gazed at him a second, then turned to Hermione.

"Isn't he that bloke who was with Harry?"

Hermione was looking at him funny. The boy still hadn't moved. "Yes, I think it is. I wonder what happened. He looks a little worse for wear."

The boy in question took a step forward, then said something that stunned Ron and Hermione.

"You can see me?" He asked.

"You can see _us?_"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I sighed as I walked along through the streets of this town I had become so familiar with. Now, however, it seemed completely foreign. I was used to people ignoring me, or skirting around me as I walked around. At least that was something. But it felt so... _depressing_ to not even be visible to the people around me. I was a ghost. Again. The irony was almost unbearable.

But what was worse, Derrin was suffering right along with me. Even though I knew deep down it wasn't my fault, I couldn't stop the guilt welling up inside my chest, so intense it made my breathing difficult.

He was now a part of my hell.

I stumbled and fell as I kicked the back step of the parlor, instead of stepping up it.

I took a deep breath as I forced my thoughts of self-pity out of my head and picked myself up off the ground. I felt a stinging, and looked down to see the palm of my hand bleeding.

So, cursing to myself, I got up and walked to the door. But when I tried to open it, my hand fazed through the handle.

"Oh yeah, right." I sucked in my breath, and stepped through the door. My body kind of went cold for a second, then felt normal again as I emerged on the other side into the locker room. The first thing I saw was Sam, sitting in the big armchair, writing in what appeared to be a diary of some sorts.

_Funny, I didn't know Sam kept a diary._

I realized I was staring at her, and snapped out of it. Scowling, I stepped over to my locker, and stood before it.

I raised my hand, and took a breath.

_Test one..._

My hand fazed through the locker door as I reached in towards my belongings. Before my fingers could find them, however, there was a harsh hand on my shoulder, fingers digging into my flesh.

Before I could even think, I was picked up by the hand and thrown hard against the opposite wall. A voice sounded from somewhere, I couldn't tell where.

"Uh uh uh..." It taunted. My blood froze at the voice.

_No... no..._

My last image was of Sam, sitting in the chair writing, blissfully unaware of the action around her.

Then everything went black.

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_Ugh. Sorry for that. It was a bad chapter. I'll try and make the next one a lot longer, kay? If you think I'm moving too fast through the plot, _please_ tell me, and I'll try and slow it up a bit. Thanks everyone for reviewing, please keep it up. If you have any ideas for the story that you think I should include, I would be happy to hear them, cuz it might help move things along. Sorry for the wait, and keep reading!_

_-Kybo_


	14. Chapter 14

"So, uhm, you're Derrik, right?" Ron asked, a confused look on his face.

"Derrin."

"Oh, sorry."

The three teens were sitting on the ground off to the side of a sidewalk, talking.

After letting the boys going on for a few minutes, Hermione interrupted them.

"Derrin, where's Harry?"

Derrin stopped, and looked at her, then said, "He's at the tattoo parlor. He sent me to find you, and in case you had been caught in the spell-curse thing, I was to contact you, get to know you both, and relay messages between the three of yo-"

"Why do you need to relay messages? Why can't we just talk to Harry?" Ron asked.

Hermione gave him a _look_. "Do you seriously think that Harry would risk enhancing the curse? I mean look at us! We're invisible! If Harry's the same as I remember him, he's probably beating himself up about us getting involved and dragged into this in the first place. He won't risk anything worse happening."

There was complete silence between the three for a minute.

Two minutes...

After three minutes of contemplation, Ron broke the silence. "So, what're we gonna do?"

There was a sigh, and the boys turned to look at Hermione. "I don't know. We can't pick anything up, we can't be seen, and we can't be heard. I don't know how we can contact anyone."

Everyone pondered his for a second, then Derrin jumped up. "I got it!"

"What?"

But Derrin didn't answer. He ran up the sidewalk towards a man who appeared to be in his early fourties; graying brown hair, business suit, and dark blue eyes. Derrin walked up behind him, rubbed his hands together, and, with a look of deepest concentration, jumped _into _the man.

Hermione and Ron's jaws dropped.

A second later, Derrin fell through the other side of the man.

"Daaah!" Whump!

He hit the ground, blushing with embarrassment.

The man then proceded to walk through Derrin, and continue on his way.

After a second of silence, Ron burst out laughing.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! What in the bloody hell was that about? Hahahaha!"

Derrin slowly got up and brushed himself off, mumbling something like, "Well, it worked on T.V..."

Hermione stood up and walked towards him. "Well, it _was_ a good idea, but it didn't work, so now I guess we'll have to try something else." She paused and glared at Ron, who was rolling on the ground laughing.

She turned back to Derrin, who was staring sheepishly at the ground. "Well, it _was_ a good idea."

Derrin looked up. "Yeah, well, I think I'll go back to the parlor and tell Harry that I found you guys." He turned to walk off.

"Wait!" said Ron, who had stopped laughing and had caught his breath.

Derrin stopped and turned around.

"What do you want us to do? Sit here and wait?"

Derrin seemed to ponder a moment, then said, "Well, I guess you can come to the parlor, but you should stay out of sight when we get there."

Hermione and Ron both took a breath, then started on there way to the parlor.

"So, you're both, uh... wizards, right?" Asked Derrin as they walked.

Ron nodded. "Well, actually, Hermione's a witch, but Harry and I re both wizards, yeah."

"So did you really have all those adventures that he said? I mean, Secret chambers, dementors, dragons, it's all so...so...incredible!"

Ron chuckled. "Well, I'm sure it sounds incredible afterwards, but," He seemed to think about what to say next for a second, then continued. "Imagine, you're in a dark scary forest in the middle of the night, and there's a thin layer of mist on the ground, and your pal's talking to a twelve foot tall spider, completely unaware of all the other giant spiders surrounding you and dropping down all around you, and then trying to get away. It's fun to look back and laugh and celebrate once we're sure that we're still alive, but it's damn scary while it's happening."

Derrin seemed to have paled a bit. His mouth hung open. Hermione watched with a bemused expression as Ron continued.

"Did Harry tell you about wizard's chess?"

Derrin slowly shook his head. "Well, the pieces are basically alive, you see. You tell them where to move, and they go there. But if you're killing one of the older pieces, you know, taking over it's place? Well, then they attack each other. One of the pieces ends up as rubble. So it's chess, with living pieces. We were stuck in a life sized version. Harry, Hermione and I were all pieces. Now imagine trying to win the game to be able to get away, without you or your friends dying. _That_ is scary. Now-"

"Ron, we're here." Hermione interrupted.

The boys looked up just in time to stop from running into the wall.

"Woah!"

"Jeez!"

They looked at each other. "That was close." "Yeah."

They heard someone giggling behind them.

They looked back and saw Hermione laughing at them. "You are both so stupid. You would have just gone through the door you know."

The boys glanced at each other.

"Besides," Hermione continued. "Ron, you and I need to hide somewhere."

"Oh, yeah." He stepped back to her. "Uh, yeah. Tell him 'hi' for us, okay?"

"Sure thing. I'll be back in a moment." But before he could sink through the door, a voice spoke from behind them all.

"You know, you don't need to go in there. I'm right here."

They all gasped and spun around. Harry stood, leaning against a house behind the parlor, watching them with amused eyes.

There was silence for a second, when everyone was looking at Harry. Then,

"Harry?" It was Ron.

"Yep. It's me."

"But what about-"

"The curse?" He laughed. Derrin stared at Harry. He could feel the short hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Something wasn't right. But he couldn't put his finger on it.

Harry looked at Derrin. "Remember I told you I had a few things to check out myself? Well, I found out that I could be around you all, and not have anything happen. I was following you that whole time."

Hermione gasped happily and ran to Harry, throwing her arms around his neck. He returned the embrace, laying his head in the crook of her neck.

They stood that way for a while, with Ron standing awkwardly next to them, until Harry pulled him into the embrace.

"I missed you guys," he murmured. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

"We missed you, too Harry." Hermione cried. Ron didn't say anything, just clung childishly to his friend as if he would disappear again if he let go.

All the while, Derrin glared suspiciously at the black-haired boy.

Something just wasn't right...

Something was missing...

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_Hey everyone, sorry for the wait. I hope this chapter was better than the last. Please review!_

_-Kybo_


	15. Chapter 15

I was going insane.

I knew it.

Have you ever had a dream where you're watching everything through some kind of glass or something that you can't break through no matter how hard you try?

I wasn't asleep.

But I was.

I was watching everything going on around me. I was right by them. I could see them all, Ron, Hermione, Derrin, but I didn't even know if I was _seeing _them. It was more of a sense.

It was the ultimate torture.

I've never been so confused, so hurt, so torn apart in all my life.

I felt like my soul was being torn apart from the inside out.

Everything was melting, crumbling into oblivion, then being thrown back into my face, giggling with the insanity of it's existence.

_What the hell is happening to me!_

I would have been hyperventilating if I had been breathing. Maybe I was.

I didn't know anymore.

I tried calling out to them, screaming to them. But all that reverberated back to me was my own confusion.

Was I crying? Was I breathing? Was I even alive?

Everything was swirling black. But I had never seen so many shades of black.

I was being sucked into some hole, ripped into the fabric of this universe.

The hole grew wider, it's fangs exposed, tearing at my fleshy shell of a body.

Suddenly, silence...

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"So, how did you find out you could see us?" Hermione asked, casting a sideways glance at Harry.

The four ghostly teens walked down the street. Ron and Hermione walked alone either side of their friend, and Derrin strode along behind them, his eyes never leaving Harry's back, an almost suspicious look dancing around the brown irises.

"Well, I'm not sure exactly. It was more of a gut feeling, you know? I told Derrin he could meet me at the parlor. But when I was about halfway there, something came over me. It was like I knew that nothing would happen. I mean, how long were you following me before anything happened? So I figured, why couldn't I follow you? So I tried it, and...well..." Harry's voice trailed off as he finished his story.

"Well, I'm just glad that we can see you." Ron said. His voice cracked somewhat. "I mean, you don't know what it was like for us. You just went missing. No one had a clue what happened to you. Then we finally found some clues, but most of them were just dead ends. We were ready to give up. But-"

"That's enough." said Harry. His voice was firm. "That's in the past. Let's just focus on now. We need to figure out how to fix this."

Hermione looked at him. "What?"

"_This_!" Harry gestured. "We're invisible! Unless we all want to starve to death, we need to do something..."

As they talk, no one notices Derrin, who slowly stopped, turned around, and glancing back over his shoulder to check that he wasn't spotted, hurried off down the street.

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_A figure stirs in the darkness._

_Dead green eyes blearily open to take_ _in their surroundings._

_A shadow of a hand reaches in front of a face hidden in darkness to feel for glasses that aren't there._

_There is a drop of water heard in the background, splashing against some unseen surface._

_A hand reaches down and touches a stone floor._

_He freezes._

_Something's not right. _

_He's been here before._

_He has been here before..._

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Derrin jogged down the street, away from the reunited 'friends', and back towards the tattoo parlor.

He didn't know why he was so panicked; Harry had acted just like Harry. There was nothing wrong with his behavior.

Only, everything in his gut was telling Derrin to run. That something was terribly, horribly wrong with everything at the moment.

His eyes were wide with some unknown fear as his jog increased to a run, and his run increased to a full-blown sprint.

It was all he could do to keep from hyperventilating.

Something was happening.

Something bad.

Very bad...

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_His breath fogs out in front of him as he takes a deep, knowing, morbid breath._

_He knows where he is._

_But- how?_

_He stands slowly on unsteady feet. _

_Everything around him seems to be surrounded in mist._

_Freezing cold permeates everything. _

_He can't see his hand in front of his face._

_He stumbles forward, hands outstretched, waiting to feel the cold stone that haunts his nightmares._

_But no wall comes._

_He pushes blindly forward into oblivion..._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

A young woman, around the age of twenty, was shopping with her new husband.

He rolled his eyes as she pointed out a shirt and insisted he try it on.

He added it to his growing pile and smiled at his love as she turned around and dug through another rack of clothes.

After they paid for the goods, he opened the door to let his wife out.

But as she stepped through the door, she was plowed over by a gothic-looking teenage boy with messy brown hair.

He rolled to a stop on the cobblestone road.

The man could hear him gasping for breath as he rushed to the aid of his wife.

He had obviously been running for a long time.

The man furiously glared over at the teenager, who was standing slowly on shaking legs.

"Hey kid, you ought to be more careful. You could have done Alex a serious injury!"

"I'm sorry." The boy panted. He gathered up a few groceries that were close to him and shoved them into the bag they fell from.

The newlyweds stared at the boy, unsure of what to think about him.

But before he resumes his sprint, the two boys' eyes met for a second, then parted as Derrin took off.

The man gasped when he saw the boys face.

Fear was etched into every inch of the boy's face...

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_He falls onto his knees after walking miles._

_A drop of water is heard splashing onto some unseen surface._

_A gasp._

_Fingers trace the cold stone floor underneath him._

_His breath quickens as he realizes..._

_He hasn't moved at all._

_Then he realizes he is laying down, his back drenched by the icy cold puddles on the floor._

_A sharp pain lances through his head, and he reaches up, feeling the warm, sticky liquid running down his face._

_Echoing laughter bounces off the nonexistent walls._

_He pushes himself up on his hands until he's sitting up._

_He starts to hyperventilate._

_He jumps to his feet and runs into the fog, losing himself in the shades of gray._

_The fog swirls around him, going faster and faster until it is completely still._

_A drop of water can be heard splashing on some unseen surface._

_And another,_

_and another._

_He screams in frustration and fear._

_Mostly fear._

_He freezes as the walls to his cell suddenly appear, surrounding him and trapping him inside._

_Footsteps can be heard in the hallway outside, coming closer..._

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

Derrin sprinted and sprinted.

He never realized how far the parlor was before.

Finally, he saw it.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_and closer..._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derrin ran up the back steps, then stopped before the door, suddenly unsure...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_and closer..._

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Derrin taked a breath, swallowed, and steps through the door...

He froze at what he saw

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_The door to the cell creaks open, and a figure steps in, smiling down at him eerily._

_He gasps. He can't help it._

_The figure wasn't who he thought it would be._

_It was-_

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"Oh my God... HARRY!"

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_"Welcome," the figure speaks._

_He is covered in cold sweat by now, and shivering violently as he stares into the eyes of-_

_"Welcome to my hell."_

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**The End**

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**PSYCHE!**

To be continued...


	16. Chapter 16

Sorry, everyone. Major writer's block. It's gone now.

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" Are you sure you didn't see him leave?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione were searching high and low around the cobblestone streets for Derrin, who appeared to have simply vanished from thin air.

"No." Said Ron, who was peering into an allyway. "I wonder where he could've gone?"

Hermione bit her lip. "But why would he just leave? I mean, it makes no sense. No one can see him, he's got nowhere to go. It's just...it makes no sense..." Her voice trailed off as she continued to worry.

After about an hour of searching in vain, Ron said, "There's something wrong here. I don't see why he would just walk off. There's no point. It just doesn't add up. Maybe we should go back to that tattoo parlor and start looking there."

Behind their backs, Harry got a sudden look of contemplation...

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_"Who are you?" he asks the figure. Deep down though, he already knows the answer._

_The figure laughs. "I thought you would've guessed, but you were always denying my existence." He steps into the light, and he finds himself staring at, himself._

_"You know who I am. I'm that voice in your head that you always try to repress, the one that you always fight. After all, how can the famous Harry Potter have a dark side? Well, everyone has one, and you are no exception. This curse has given me the grounds to take over. You're powerless against me."_

_"That's not true!" he snarls from the floor._

_"No? What about your anger against Malfoy every time he makes a snide comment about you or your friends? What about Snape, who does everything in his power to make your life hell, and who gave Voldemort the key to your parents?" On the floor, he clenches his eyes shut. "What about the deatheaters who taunted you in that graveyard, who tortured you in that cell when you were captured? What about Voldemort?" he licks his lips and continues: "He ruined your life, didn't he? He killed your parents, destined you to be raised by the Dursleys. He tried to kill you time and again at Hogwarts and outside. He gave you visions and pains caused by the scar he gave you. He tortured you enough to drive you insane for a while when he captured you. Then he asked you to join him. He had the gall to ask you to become a part of his ranks. After everything he did to you. He's the reason your life is miserable, Harry. He's the reason everyone knows you. The reason you're always in danger, the reason your friends are all in danger. He's the cause."_

_"SHUT UP!" He screams from the floor. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" He clutches his head in his hands, tears fighting there way out of his clenched eyes._

_Still standing in the doorway, he laughs. "I can't leave you alone, Harry. I am a part of you. You can never get away from me, as I can never get away from you. You are a slave to your feelings."_

_"Why? What do you want from me?" His voice is thin, deflated._

_"Your anger. Your passion. Your cooperation. If only for a little while."_

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"Harry? C'mon, Harry, wake up. Please wake up."

Derrin sat on the floor next to Harry's comatose body. His friend looked dead but for the slow even breaths causing his lungs to slowly rise and fall, rise and fall.

Derrin had been sitting for over two hours trying to wake him, but he was slowly running out of hope.

The others had most likely discovered him gone, and it wouldn't be long until they came back to the tattoo parlor.

As more of a way to calm himself, Derrin started talking to the shell of Harry.

"I knew something was wrong with the Harry out there. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew something was whacked. I thought I was being stupid because Ron and Hermione didn't seem to notice anything. But I couldn't shake it off, you know? I finally couldn't stand it anymore. I thought I would find something here. So I snuck away from the others. As I got closer, something in my gut made me go faster, until I was sprinting full out. You know the feeling when you're a little kid and you think there are monsters chasing you, so you run like hell and you're still scared? That's what it was like. Bet I broke a few records on speed."

He stared at the wall, and continued: "Heh, you should've seen the look on this woman's face when I ran into her. And her husband, I thought he was going to murder-" He cut off as he thought of what he was saying. His eyes slowly grew rounder as he thought back to the very solid impact with the woman walking out the door of the shop.

He raised a hand to his mouth, speechless.

"What's up with you?" A weak voice asked from the floor.

Derrin nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around, thoughts of un-ghostlyness vanishing momentarily from his mind as he looked down at me.

I looked back up at him. "Scared you." I mumbled, and slowly tried to sit up.

Derrin stared for a moment, then almost screamed: "HARRY!"

I winced, propping myself up on my elbows. "You don't need to scream it. I'm not deaf."

Derrin dropped down next to me-- for a moment I thought he was going to hug me, but he knelt and stared at me, concerned.

"What happened to you?"

I thought for a second, searching my memory until I was sure.

"Voldemort."

Derrin blanched. "Y-you mean that really _really _evil guy you were telling me about?"

I nodded. "Yeah. He attacked me when I came in here, and judging by what you were saying, he took on my form."

"What? How?"

I glanced down at my arm. There was a thin cut running down my forearm. I showed it to Derrin. "Polyjuice potion."

A blank look was all I received in answer.

"He took some of my blood, pt it in a potion called the polyjuice potion, and drank it, so he would turn into me." I paused, thinking. I had never heard of blood being used in t e polyjuice potion before, and I wasn't sure what would happen if blood _was_ used.

I looked at Derrin, who was still looking at me like I was speaking in Greek, and asked, "How long have I been out?"

Derrin snapped out of it, then thought for a while. "Ummm, we split up at the market about five hours ago, we found the other you about three hours-"

"Shit." I cut him off.

"What? What's wrong?"

"Polyjuice potion is supposed to only last an hour. By using my blood, Voldemort has been able to retain my image for over three hours. Unless," I looked at my friend. "He didn't have any kind of flask or bottle on him, did he?"

Derrin shook his head. "No."

"Damn. We have to go fast then."

Derrin glanced at me strangely.

"What do you mean?"

I sighed. "You know you're acting really thick right now."

An injured look crossed his face. "I know we need to act fast. I mean, evil wizards walking around posing as my friend isn't good. What I meant, was Where do we go? How do we stop him? I man, you just woke up from a three-and-a-half hour coma."

"Don't worry about that." I said. I thought of a figure with black hair and green eyes hidden behind glasses, asking me for my emotions in order to get revenge.

"I know what to do now."


	17. Chapter 17

Three figures walked down a cobblestone street, looking, searching, sometimes calling out a name. One figure lags behind, his face in a look of deep thought.

Contemplating...

His eyes flashed for a second from emerald to a vivid crimson as a look of sudden understanding and rage washed over his features. The eyes turned back to green and the face returned to it's worried expression as the two in front of him glanced back questioningly.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked as gazed at his 'friend'.

"Yeah," he answered slowly, "I was just thinking..."

"About what?"

"Well," He thought out the words carefully before saying them, a plan forming swiftly in his mind. "I was just wondering why Derrin would go back to the tattoo parlor. I mean, the curse took effect in the graveyard, right? So, I was thinking that he might've gone there to find answers. It wouldn't make much sense to go back to the parlor, would it?"

Hermione thought for a second, then said, "No, it wouldn't. Good point Harry. I guess we should go look in the graveyard for him, then."

"Yeah. Good idea."

The two started walking again, and 'Harry' joined them, lagging behind a step or two, a smirk playing across his thin lips...

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"Okay, let's try this again," Derrin looked down at me. I was sitting on the floor in the back room of the tattoo parlor.

Derrin reached down, and I held up my hand. Our fingers intertwined, and Derrin pulled as I struggled to get up to my feet.

"Nnnnngh..." I grunted as I tried to stand on my own. All my joints felt as if they were on fire.

After a minute or so, I managed to stand on my own, panting slightly. My back was still leaning against the wall, but at least I was on my feet. For how long, though, I couldn't be sure.

I closed my eyes and brought my breathing back to normal. I tried to meditate a little to dull the pain, but it didn't help much.

_God, what did he hit me with?_

I opened my eyes to find a blurry Derrin gazing worriedly at me. "You all right, mate?"

"Y-yeah," I answered. I brought my hand up to my eyes to see what was wrong with my glasses, and found they weren't there.

Through the haze in front of me, I saw Derrin bend down and pick something up.

"Looking for these?"

I felt my glasses being pushed into one of my hands, and wrapped my fingers around them. "Thanks," I said as I slipped them on. The room came back into focus.

A few seconds passed, then I remembered something my friend was saying as I woke up.

"So, when you were talking earlier, you said you ran into someone?"

Derrin's eyes widened as he remembered the incident. "Yeah," he said in an exited, breathy voice. "Yeah, I was running back here to the parlor, and this couple stepped out of a shop in front of me, and I hit the woman. We both went flying, her groceries went flying, I can't believe I didn't even think twice about it! I just shoved some of her stuff back in their bags, apologized, and took off!" He fell back into one of the armchairs, an amazed look on his face. I thought for a while, then looked down at him. He turned his face towards me again. "What happened? Why was I suddenly..._not a ghost_?"

"It could be that you're a muggle..." I offered. "So the spell might not've been as strong on you as it was on Ron, Hermione and I."

"Well, if it's wearing off on me, how long do you think it'll take to wear off for you?"

I hadn't thought of this before. I pondered, thinking back to the split-second eye contact with Ron. "How long have we been like this, you reckon?"

Derrin calculated a moment, then said slowly, still thinking, "Well, we left the parlor at about eleven, but it would be nice to know how long we were out. Let's say one night, and right now it's ummm..." He glanced at the wall on the clock and his eyes widened. "Five thirty! Holy Hell! I thought it would be like, two or something!"

"Okay, screw the calculations. We need to do something. Voldemort's walking around out there with my friends while we're sitting here talking. Knowing Voldemort, most likely he knows you came here, which leaves two options: One, he's coming here and bringing Ron and Hermione with him. That won't end nice at all, and I'm almost sure that most if not all of us will end up dead, or captured." I shuddered a bit at the thought, but continued, ignoring Derrin's pale, scared face. "And two, he's taking them somewhere, knowing that we're going to come looking for him. So inevitably there will be a trap set for us...Let's just hope its the latter. We might actually stand a chance then."

Derrin was staring with wide eyes. "You mean, there's no other option? We've got to fight him either way?" His voice was weak.

I dropped my eyes to the floor, avoiding my friend's scared gaze. "I'm afraid so..."

I didn't want to look at him. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.

"For what?"

My eyes snapped up, and they were blazing with self-loathing. Derrin looked startled. "For dragging you into this mess! For ruining your whole god-damn life!" My eyes softened a bit, and my voice lowered some. "God, I'm so sorry Derrin. I'm so sorry. You shouldn't be wrapped up in this mess. I should've never come here. Then I wouldn't have met you guys and you'd all be saf-"

"Oh shut up, you buffoon!"

My head snapped up and I gazed at Derrin as if I had never seen him before. He had jumped up from the chair and was standing in front of me

"It was bound to happen sooner or later, wasn't it? It wouldn't matter if you had gone to Antarctica. If Ron and Hermione are as good of friends as you say they are, they would have followed your trail to the ends of the Earth! Be glad you're here, man. 'Cuz at least you've got friends here. You've got me, Sam and Tom, and now your saying that you wish none of this had happened, that you hadn't even _met_ us? Well I thought you were braver than that, Harry. Yeah, we've got a problem. Didja hear that? _We _have a problem. You might be sorry that I'm stuck in this mess, but I'm not! Because I don't believe things happen for no good reason. It's obvious you need help, and I'm gonna help you."

He paused a second for breath and looked down at my shocked face. "...So...so there."

I sat frozen for a second, then a grin spread across my face. "_So there_ ?"

Derrin blushed a little, then said, "Well, I couldn't think of anything else to say."

He stood before me, and after a brief pause, he asked, "So what do we do?"

I remembered the experiments I wanted to conduct earlier before I was 'interrupted'.

Slowly, I stepped across the room to my locker. My body was still sore, but the pain was much more bearable now.

Tentatively, I put my hand forward until it was an inch from my locker. I took a breath, and shoved it forward through the metal door- WHAM!

"OW! _Bloody Hell_ !" I waved my hand around in front of me, my very bones throbbing. After a second of dancing on the spot, I suddenly froze as if I was turned to stone. Still holding my aching limb, I turned my head and stared at Derrin, Who was looking astonished right at me. I looked back at the locker. It stood innocently before me, the ceiling lights glinting harmlessly off it's painted front.

"_Who's back there_?"

Derrin and I both spun around at the familiar voice. Footsteps sounded outside the door leading to the main parlor, and soon, the door swung open, and a very haggard looking Samantha stood before us. Her eyes went wide. "H-James? Derrin? Where have you _been_?"

Derrin and I looked at each other, then back at Sam.

"You can see us?" "You can see us?" We both asked at the same time, incredulous.

She raised an eyebrow. "Of _ course _I can see you! Why wouldn't I be able to?"

Derrin and I looked at each other again.

"Oh shit." "Oh shit."

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_Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the wait. Only a few more chapters left to go! Thanks for staying with me this long. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. It gets better soon--I promise. Please review, your comments help keep me going on with the story cuz I know what you think about it._

_Until next time,_

_-Kybo_


	18. Chapter 18

"Derrin! Oy! Derrin, Are you there?"

'Harry', Ron, and Hermione stepped around the numerous gravestones that filled the cemetery.

"I don't think he's here, Harry." Ron sighed as he stopped and looked back and waited for his two friends.

"Well, bets are, if he doesn't find us at the tattoo parlor, he'll come here." Harry stated simply.

Hermione stopped and looked at him with a strange look on her face. "He wasn't looking for us. In case you've forgotten, he kind of ran off. Away from us."

'Harry' looked back at her. "I knew that. What I meant to say, is that if he doesn't find what he's looking for, then he might come here. So we should wait here a little while longer."

"...Right."

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Derrin and I stared at each other, speechless.

Sam stared from one of us to the other, then back again. "What is going on here?"

I looked over to Sam. "Are...are you...ummmm..._sure_...you can see us?"

She stared at us a second, then burst out laughing.

Derrin and I stared at each other again, breathing fast.

After a good few minutes, she stopped long enough to breathe...somewhat easier.

"You two have been drinking, haven't you?" She rolled her eyes. "That explains everything." Her face suddenly turned serious as she strode over and landed a solid punch on my shoulder. "You jerk! Do you know how much work Tom and I have had to do today because you decided not to show up?" She turned to Derrin, who was totally caught off guard, and started chewing him out, too.

Meanwhile, I had fallen back against the wall, and was standing with my back to it, gasping in pain.

She really hadn't hit me that hard, but...that hurt...

Her ranting turned into a haze in my mind as my back flared suddenly with blinding pain. I gave a cry and fell onto my knees.

Colors started swirling in my vision, and soon the colors blended together to form pictures in front of me.

_Gravestones..._

_Dead grass..._

_An old Sycamore tree..._

_Bodies laying still underneath the cold, dead branches..._

_Several bodies..._

_An old man with shattered glasses, blood covering the front of his shirt..._

_A young couple, hiding in each other's arms for eternity..._

_Derrin, laying spread eagle on his back, a dribble of blood in the corner of his lips..._

_Sam, face down in the dry grass, the back of her head misshapen, with blood congealing around her still form like red sauce..._

_Hermione, her eyes wide with terror and her mouth hanging open in a silent scream..._

_Ron. Ron, sitting, leaning against a gravestone, gasping for breath as red liquid streams from the corner of his mouth. He takes a great gasp of air. "How could you Harry? HOW COULD YOU?" And then his breath fades..._

_And me, on my knees in the middle of it all, clutching my head in my hands as if it would explode. _

_"Nnnngh...Nnnnnnnnaaaaaaaagh...Nnnnn**nnnnnnNNNNNNRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-**"_

_----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_"_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!**"

I clutched my head as I screamed in pain and anguish. Hands gripped tightly to my arms, and I tried to wrench them free.

"Harry. Harry!" The hands gripped tighter, restraining me.

"Dammit. Sam, grab his legs. Hold him down! Mind he doesn't kick you. No! Stop crying and get over here! C'mon, Harry, snap out of it. Harry!"

Two more hands gripped my legs, pinning them to the floor. I didn't notice, however.

A door slammed, and someone else entered the room, shouting. The person shut up when they saw me.

I continued to writhe and struggle on the floor, oblivious to everything around me.

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Meanwhile, in a graveyard on the other side of town, three teenagers walked aimlessly around, waiting, for...something.

One of them stopped behind the other two and closed his eyes for a second, a look of pained concentration covering his features.

The other two stopped and looked back at him worriedly, asking questions, but the boy ignored them.

After a minute of tense silence, the boy's shoulders relaxed, and the other two took a step closer. Slowly, the boy opened his eyes.

The other two gasped when they saw them, and stepped back fearfully.

"You..."

"What've you done with Harry?"

"Where's Derrin?"

"Bastard..."

Slowly, icily, the boy's lips move.

_"C'mon, Harry... you-_

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_know where to find me..."_

_My world was surrounded by a pair of slitted, crimson eyes for a second, then they closed, And everything was black._

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Yay for another chapter! So, didja miss me? I bet. Cuz even I was getting tired of that wait. So I promise I will do my best to update soon, kay?

Pleasepleaseplease tell me what you think. It might help me move a little faster...

:wink wink:


	19. Chapter 19

I sat up suddenly, gasping for breath. Hands were holding my shoulders.

I looked around the bright room. Three sets of eyes were staring worriedly at me. Derrin, Sam, and Tom. Sam was trembling, and Tom didn't seem to have a clue what to do. Derrin was holding me steady as I gasped for breath.

"You've _really _got to stop doing that, mate."

"Oh, no shit, Sherlock." I mumbled. He grinned."Keep digging, Watson." "Uuugh. Nevermind."

I looked over at Sam and Tom, who stood staring wide-eyed at me. Then Sam burst out "It's Derrin's fault!"

I went bug-eyed. "What?"

"It's Derrin's fault! He wouldn't let us call an ambulance!"

I looked over at Derrin and he shrugged. "Thanks."

It was Sam's turn to go bug-eyed. "Y-you're _thanking_ him? Harry, you could've died!"

"I wouldn't have died, Sam."

"Why does everyone keep calling you 'Harry', James?" Poor Tom was completely lost.

"Cuz it's my name." He stood still a moment, his face blank. "Those two can fill you in on the details later."

I stood up suddenly, making everyone jump. I cringed a little as my back gave a small twinge of pain, but then stood up straight and walked over to my locker. I had to get out of there. Voldemort was waiting. Ron and Hermione might have already been dead.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Sam asked in a small voice behind me.

"I have to go." The lock opened with a 'click', and I swung the locker door open. Derrin stepped up behind me. "You're not going anywhere without me."

I rummaged in my backpack, looking for something. "Yes, I am."

I found what I was looking for. I pulled out a thin, pale stick from my bag. The other three eyed it questioningly.

Derrin looked deep into my eyes. "You can't do this alone, mate."

The other two looked at him. "Do what alone?"

"Yes I can." I turned back to my bag and continued rummaging.

"No, you can't, Harry!" He said, louder this time. I sighed, then turned to look at him.

"Listen. I don't know if I can or not. But that's not the point. I know I'm the only one who could stand against him and have a bloody chance at defeating him. He's hurt a lot of people. He's killed a few people that were very close to me. Right now, he's got my two best friends in the world, and I don't have a fucking clue whether or not they're still alive. I'll be damned if I lead more friends into that situation. So, I'm going alone."

Derrin looked hurt, as well as Sam and Tom, though they were both still extremely confused. All they knew was that lives were at stake somehow, I probably needed help, and I wasn't going to accept it.

I turned and pulled a small pouch from the backpack as well and put it into a pocket.

I then faced them, holding the strip of wood. This was going to be really hard. "Listen, guys." I said. "Thanks for everything. Ever since I came here I've had so much fun with you. This place was practically my home, and I loved it. Please don't think too harshly of me, I just count your lives far higher up than my own, and I know I couldn't live with myself if someone else died because of me."

"Harry..." Sam had ears in her eyes.

I pointed the wand at them. The wand I had re-acquired when I escaped from Voldemort before.

All this time, I had never used magic.

Until now.

"Obliviate."

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Ron writhed on the ground, tugging at the bonds that held him. Sweat dripped from his forehead as the bonds constricted more. He moaned in pain, then stopped moving for a little while. The bonds loosened again. His eyes traveled over to Hermione, who lay, also bound head to foot, at the base of a tall gravestone. She still hadn't woken up.

After they had seen Voldemort's eyes, they had instantly known it was him, though neither had actually seen him before. They had attacked him, but he had easily overpowered them both. When Ron had woken up, he was tied up and sore everywhere.

His eyes left Hermione and travelled over to the big villain himself. Red eyes watched him, a slightly amused expression twinkling somewhere in their vile depths.

"What is the matter, Ronald?" A pale tongue traced nonexistent lips. "Do you not like your accomedations?"

A stream of muffled swear words flew from Ron's mouth.

"Tut, tut, Ronald. What would your mother say if she heard you speaking like that? You need to wash out your mouth." That said, he flicked his wand lazily at Ron, who gagged and rolled over, attempting to spit the soap suds out of his mouth through the ropes gagging him. As he coughed and sputtered, Voldemort watched him, chuckling silently to himself.

About this time, Hermione was waking up. Through bleary eyes, she saw Ron being tormented. She was about to cry out when a hand clamped hard over her mouth.

"Ssshhh. It's all right."

She relaxed a little as she felt something cold cutting the ropes binding her hands.

"Close yours eyes." the voice whispered. She did so. For a moment, she felt as if she were being compressed on all sides by rubber walls, but then the pressure stopped, and she opened them.

I was kneeling next to her, already cutting through the ropes binding her. All this time, I hadn't looked at her. As soon as she was free, she spun around and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, my eyes clenched shut.

"Oh, Harry!" She cried.

"Sssshhhh, Hermione." I pushed her away. "Not now. You need to go get Dumbledore and the Order. Here." reached into one of my pant's pockets and pulled out the small bag I had grabbed from my backpack. It was full of floo powder. I held it out to her, and felt her take it.

"Now go." And with that, I disapperated again.

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Voldemort had heard the 'Crack!' of someone disapperating as he tormented Ron, but by the time he looked over, the girl was gone.

Furious, he had stormed over to the spot where she had been and looked everywhere. She was gone. He knew that the girl could not disapperate, which meant...

'Crack!'

"Stupify!"

"Protego!"

I fell back. I had just barely blocked the spell. Voldemort turned and glared at me. Ron struggled in his loosened bonds, still spitting out suds. I had only managed to get his hands free.

"Well, well, well." Said Voldemort as he stepped towards me slowly. "Harry Potter. So predictable. Always playing the little 'hero'. Heh. Disgusting."

I stood up and pointed my wand towards him. My scar was stinging along with my back, but I ignored them.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something. Hermione's wand was laying about ten feet away at the base of a tall cracked gravestone. For a moment, I wondered whether Ro would see it. For an even shorter moment I wondered if I would be able to use two wands at the same time. I figured I wouldn't dare risk it.

"Do you wish to duel again?"

"Well, we all know how good that worked out last time, now don't we?" I snarled.

"Big words, boy."

_Lend me your anger, your hate, your fear..._

I relaxed a little, though I was still poised and ready to attack or defend in an instant.

I could feel my anger rising. Blood was pumping in my ears, I could feel it. Everything around me fell into a red mist.

"You." I hissed.

Voldemort grinned. "Me." At the look in my eyes, his grin widened. "Well, it looks like I broke you after all boy. How does it feel to be crazy?"

"What, you can't answer that yourself? You are crazier than I'll ever be. "

"So, are you ever going to live up to those promises you made while I tortured you?"

I suddenly grinned. "You have no idea."

'Crack!' I was gone.

'Crack!' I appeared behind Voldemort, already swinging my wand. "Stupify!"

Voldemort flicked his wand, and the spell was deflected back at me. I dropped to the ground and rolled to the side.

"You stole my life from me!" I screamed at him. "You killed my parents!" I dodged a blast from his wand. My anger continued to grow. "You took away everything in my life I held dear!" I dodged again.

I suddenly got a plan. Well, not really, but I guessed it would tick him off. "Is that how you get off or something?" I ducked behind a gravestone as Vlodemort screamed at me and unleashed a barrage of curses. "Of course, I understand. You could never get a girl. No one loves you."

I knew I was getting to him, no mater how calm he was able to make himself look.

He grinned again. "Dear boy, I do not need love. I have never needed love. Unlike you. Your passion, your love for your friends, that is what makes you weak."

I laughed. "Oh really? And all those stories where the evil guy rules through fear have happy endings do they?" A blast hit the gravestone I was crouching behind, and the top corner was blown off. Talk about Deja vu.

I turned and stood in one swift movement and fired a jinx at him, but he dodged and countered. I remembered a spell. but didn't want to give it away. I though about it hard as Voldemort's curse flew towards me. Much to my relief, it worked.

_Yay for wordless spell-casting..._

The energy from the curse flew together and became a large ball at the tip of my wand. It then doubled in size. I flicked my wand and it launched itself towards Voldemort. As soon as it left my wand, I shouted "Crucio!"

He just barely deflected the first blast, but was too slow to stop the second. I let my hatred flow into the curse. This wasn't like the time I had hit Bellatrix Lestrange. This wasn't just righteous anger. I loathed Voldemort more than anyone in the world. I wanted him to hurt. I wanted him to get a taste of his own medicine. And he was.

He was on he ground, twitching, writhing, screaming.

I laughed at him. "How does it feel?" I yelled over his screams. "What's it like, huh? All the times you tortured me. All the times you tortured your followers. All the times you tortured innocent people simply for your own sick amusement! I bet you've never even felt what it's like! Well, here's a sample."

I watched him writhe on the ground for a while. For a moment, I saw Moody standing over a desk holding his wand over a twitching spider. That's all that Voldemort was. A stinking, ugly spider.

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Ron had managed to free himself from his restraints. He now sat huddled by a large dead Oak tree, watching the scene with horror. Harry was torturing Voldemort. Sure, the bastard deserved it, that's not what bothered Ron. What stunned him was that Harry seemed to be enjoying what he was doing. He was laughing at the pathetic creature writhing and screaming on the ground. Finally, Harry released the spell. Ron sat there, stunned.

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Voldemort scrambled up to his feet, panting and furious. His face was red. He reached up and wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"Funny," I said. "I didn't know you could actually bleed. That almost makes you human-like." I held my wand towards him. I knew I could never just kill him. I had to come up with a plan.

He pointed his hand towards the ground where his wand lay. It flew up into his fingers. He looked at me, and his eyes seemed even more crimson and full of hatred than they had before. "You will pay for that." He spat out, his voice quivering with rage.

And the duel continued with renewed ferocity.

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The members of The Order of the Phoenix were sitting in the kitchen of 12 Grimmauld place when the fire roared to life. Almost everyone in the room jumped- they hadn't expected anyone else to show up.

Dumbledore had called the meeting together to organize a search for Ron and Hermione. They had been gone far too long, and everyone was getting nervous. Dumbledore had long since told everyone his suspicions about Harry, and everyone present, even the sobbing Molly Weasley had agreed that it was best for his two best friends to find him first.

Everyone was looking into the fireplace. There was a collective gasp as Hermione stumbled out. She was crying, her hair was all tangled up, she had bruises all across her arms, and had a cut above her right eye.

Remus Lupin, who was sitting the closest to her, jumped up and rushed to her side.

"Hermione! What's wrong? What happened?"

Everyone else had gathered around as Remus helped the sobbing girl into a chair. Molly pushed through the crowd with a wet towel and bean to wash Hermione's face.

"It's okay, dear." Said Minerva McGonogall.

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Hermione, we need to know what's happened."

Hermione had gotten control of herself by now. The initial panic of what had happened had worn off, leaving the grim determination to do her job right. She gently pushed away Mrs. Weasley, saying, "I'm all right. No, really, I'll be fine."

She looked around at everyone assembled. "We found Harry...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was losing the battle. I was tired and exhausted. Apparently I had done something to really piss him off...

He shot a spell at me that was so powerful I could feel it coming the moment it left his wand. I had no choice but to copy his move from a few years ago and conjure a shield out of midair. The spell bounced off of it, but I was thrown back ten feet into a tombstone which cracked behind me. I moaned and slumped down to the ground, panting heavily.

"Harry!" Voldemort and I looked up to see Ron staring down at us, his eyes wide.

_Oh, shit, I forgot..._

Upon seeing Ron, my back erupted in pain again. I yelled and fell flat to the dead grass beneath me.

Through a haze of pain, I saw Voldemort raise is wand at Ron, laughing.

_No..._

He began to say something. The wand seemed to be already glowing green in anticipation of the spell.

_NO!_

Time seemed to stand still. The pain in my back was suddenly trivial. So was the pain in my scar. I jumped up and ran towards Voldemort, shooting every hex, curse, and jinx I could think of. Voldemort turned in what seemed like slow motion. He smirked and deflected my attacks. As I ran towards him, he turned his wand towards me and whispered something. A bright yellow light shot out of the wand. I turned enough that it didn't hit me dead-on, but it still ran down the length of my left arm.

Time resumed.

I fell heavily, clutching the bloodied limb. The spell had torn the flesh apart from my shoulder to my wrist.

Voldemort laughed.

I clenched my teeth. My eyes were watering with the pain. My scar still burned on my head. My back still ached.

I looked up slowly at Voldemort. There was something different about him. Then it hit me. Every time he hit me with something, he would pause for a moment, as if weakened. As I looked up at him, the strength seemed to be ebbing from him, though he made a good show of ignoring it and looking strong.

"How could you have ever thought you win against me?" he hissed.

_Now I understand. All those times he failed killing me, all those times I got away..._

I looked at him. I stared into those crimson pits in his face. In my head, everything was falling into place.

_You never really wanted to kill me, did you? You were afraid._

"I don't have to win." I said quietly. Voldemort arched a nonexistent eyebrow. "I just have to make sure that you lose."

I turned my wand away from him, and instead pointed it straight into my own chest.

Voldemort's eyes widened, and for the first time, I saw fear wash across his face. I knew I was right.

"Avada..."

"NO!" He lunged at me

Ron sat gaping under the dead tree.

_goodbye_.

"Kedavra."


	20. Chapter 20

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Ron was screaming. Running towards Harry as he fell. Tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't notice. He had seen what was coming, but was too stunned to stop it. As his friend fell, all other thoughts were banished from his mind.

Ron skidded to a stop beside his friend. He rolled Harry over, still sobbing.

"Come on, Harry. Don't do this. Come on, wake up. Wake up!"

A moan came from behind him.

Suddenly Ron remembered Voldemort. He spun around, one hand still on Harry's ominously still chest.

The Dark Lord was on the ground, writhing again. Only this time, he wasn't screaming. His chest was heaving, and he was moaning in pain. A smoke-like substance seemed to be rising from his body.

Ron knew he was defeated.

He turned back to Harry.

"C'mon mate. Snap out of it. You can't be..." he choked back a sob. "You c-can-can't be d-" He just could bring himself to say it. "HARRY! Come on, please? For me?" He shook his friend slightly. There was still no response.

Ron gazed into his best friends face. His skin was incredibly pale. His mouth was slightly open, and there was a small spot of blood on the corner of his mouth. His hair was limp and bedraggled, lying across his forehead. But what Ron noticed was the half-open eyes. The green could still be seen, though there was no life in them anymore- no hidden flame that everyone admired, no small twinkle of humor.

Ron sat there in shock, not knowing what to do, no clear thoughts running through his mind.

He was suddenly surrounded by loud popping noises as people apperated all around him. Ron no longer knew if he was crying or not, no longer knew if he was sitting or standing or laying down. He seemed to be floating. Nothing mattered anymore; the only thing that registered in his brain was his friend's blank stare. He hardly noticed as the people surrounded him, gasping, talking, crying. Someone pushed forward to Harry. The man bent down and placed a hand on Harry's neck. He said some quick words to all the people gathered, who immediately sprung to action.

Someone picked Ron up, but he hardly even registered the motion.

Everything became a blur to the boy as he was transported away from the graveyard. At some point, his exhaustion overtook him and he passed out, welcoming the warm embrace of unconsciousness.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When he opened his eyes, it took a moment for his surroundings to come into focus.

He was in a bright room. The walls were white, and there was a window against one of them.

He squinted his eyes against the light.

Ron realized he was in a bed with warm blankets covering his body.

He turned his head to the side, and almost at once he felt sore all over his body. He closed his eyes again and groaned. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had been at Ron's side since he was brought in jumped up at the sound; they had been asleep in their chairs.

"Ron?" Mrs. Weasley stroked her son's face. He opened his eyes again, and found himself staring into the worried gaze of his mother. Behind her, his father stood, looking immensly relieved.

"Mum?"

"Oh, Ron!" His mother gathered him into a tight hug.

"Ow!" Ron winced. "Mum, that hurts."

She relinquished her grip on him, but still held onto his hand, as if he would slip away if she let go.

"How do you feel, son?" Mr. Weasley asked, stepping up next to his wife.

"Like I've been beaten up by a troll." Ron moaned. "What happened?"

His parents froze for a second, then smiled sadly down at their son.

"We're so proud of you, Ron." Mrs. Weasley whispered.

"What're you-" Ron stopped. Image after image raced through is brain, and before he even realized what had happened, he felt his mother brushing the tears away from his cheeks.

"It's all going to be okay, Ron." Mr. Weasley said quietly. He had somehow moved to the other side of the bed, and was now holding his other hand.

"How? How can it be okay? Harry's- Harry's dead." This last word was hardly above a whisper.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley exchanged a confused look.

"Ron," Mrs. Weasley started, but she couldn't seem to find the right words to say.

"What your mother's trying to say, son, is that, well..." He trailed off.

Ron sat up a little, ignoring the pain in his limbs. "What?"

"Harry's alive."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus Lupin paced outside of the hospital room door.

Hagrid sat, stuffed into one of the uncomfortable chairs set against the wall. Next to him, looking tired and worn, sat Hermione.

Several other members from the Order had come and gone, all wanting to check up on the two teenagers now residing in the hospital.

It had been two days since the final battle between Harry and Voldemort.

No one knew what had happened during that battle except for Ron, and he was currently unconscious, though he was in much better shape than Harry. The doctors expected him to wake up sometime today.

Harry, on the other hand, well, no one really knew just _what_ was wrong with him. His left arm had been completely torn apart, and the healers were hard-put to mend it. It still hadn't healed much, which led the staff and those in the Order to believe the wounds were caused by some kind of curse.

That was about the only thing they knew for sure, though they didn't even know what curse had been used. As far as they could tell, Voldemort had invented the spell. He seemed to have a knack for inventing his own spells. After Hermione had told them everything she knew about the strange scar on Harry's back, they concluded that it must have also been a spawn of the lunatic's mind.

The healers had conducted test after test, and they had still not come up with any way to reverse the curse.

When the Order had shown up at the graveyard, they had found Ron sobbing over Harry's body. They had all thought him dead. Remus had ran forward and had checked for a pulse. After what had seemed like ages, he had found one, though it was thin and weak.

Moody had gone up to the dying Voldemort, and on seeing the smoke slowly rising off his body had immediately captured all his essence in an enchanted box and transported it to the Ministry of Magic. It was now being held in the Department of Mysteries under top security.

They had transported Ron and Harry to St. Mungo's at once, and while Ron had been easily stabilized, Harry had needed constant attention.

"Hermione?"

She opened her eyes and sat up, looking around her. Apparently she had fallen asleep.

She glanced around, then saw the twins standing over her. They were both smiling slightly.

"What is it?"

"He's awake." They both said at the same time.

Hermione immediately looked towards Harry's door.

"No, wrong 'him'." said George sadly. "Yeah," added Fred. "We'd prefer Harry over Ron anyday. He's much cooler. But Ron'll have to do, eh?"

Despite their joking, they both looked greatly pleased to be giving this news.

"Ron's awake?" Hermione jumped up.

"Yep. We've just been to see him. We figured you would like to know too."

Hagrid and Remus were both watching them, both obviously extremely happy and relieved to hear this.

The twins looked toward the two. "Mum told us to tell you that she doesn't want anyone questioning him yet. He's still really shaken up. He thought Harry was dead. So, as soon as Dumbledore and McGonogall come out of there," Fred motioned to the door behind them as George continued. "make sure you tell them. They can come visit him, though."

The twins looked back towards Hermione- but she was gone.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ron and his parents all jumped as Hermione burst through the door to the room.

Ron barely had any time o react as Hermione threw herself into his arms. "Ron! Ron! Oh, Ron! I'm so happy you're okay!"

He tried gathering his breath again as Hermione hugged him. He patted her on the back, a bemused expression on his face.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley beamed at each other.

After what seemed like ages to Ron, Hermione unlatched herself from him. Her face was red, and she had tears in her eyes.

Ron looked up at his parents. "Uh,"

"Say no more!" Mr. Weasley said happily as he pushed his wife out of the room.

Ron blushed.

He looked over at Hermione, his expression suddenly going serious.

"How is he?"

"He' s in some kind of coma. No one can really figure out what's wrong with-" She cut off as Ron buried his head in his hands. "Ron?"

"Hermione," Ron's voice was muffled, but Hermione could tell that his voice was cracking.

"What is it, Ron?"

Ron mumbled something that Hermione couldn't hear. "What was that?"

"He killed himself, Hermione. That's how he defeated Voldemort. He used...he used...Avada Kedavra."

Hermione gasped. "But...how? He's...he's alive."

Ron looked up at her, his eyes red. "Hermione?"

"Yeah Ron?"

"Could you say that again? Please? I need to hear it."

Hermione brushed the hair out of Ron's face, then leaned forward. She looked into his eyes and said slowly, "Harry is alive. He'll be okay, Ron. He's not dead."

Ron fell into her, and she held onto him tightly. They hugged, supporting each other in the bright room.


	21. Chapter 21

"I'm sorry but he's in the middle of-"

"I don't care! I'm going to see him!"

"Wha's this abou'?"

"She won't let me in to see Har-"

"Please! I need you to calm down for a mo-"

"Oh, come off it! I've got to get in there!"

"Woah, there, slow do-"

"I have to ask you to lower your voice. There are patients around."

"Please? Please let me see him? I promise I won't get in the way. I just...I have to see him."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Professor Dumbledore looked up from his task. He had been refilling a few potion bottles while healers bustled all around him when he heard the commotion coming from the hallway.

A slight twinkle returned to his blue eyes. He glanced down to the boy lying next to him.

"Well, Harry. Looks like you have a visitor."

The old man stood up and trudged quietly to the door. He opened the door and stared out at the scene in front of him with silent amusement.

Ron, still clad in his hospital gown, was trying to break free from Lupin's grasp while a harassed looking witch stood behind them both trying to calm the boy down. Hagrid still sat in his small wooden chair looking as if he were suffering greatly at the attempt to contain his laughter, while Hermione had already collapsed against the wall and was giggling helplessly.

"Oh, come on Lupin, let go of- Oh! Hi, uh, P-Professor" Ron said sheepishly when he spotted Dumbledore standing in the doorway watching.

Lupin let go of Ron, who took a step away from the man and indignantly brushed himself off. Hermione was giggling harder than ever; her face was bright red and she was clutching her stomach as she tried in vain to catch her breath. Poor Hagrid could no longer contain himself and he too burst into hearty chuckles.

"Well, I assume you are feeling better?" Dumbledore smiled down at the red-haired boy.

"Yeah. I-I mean yes, professor." Ron took a step toward the headmaster. "Umm, I was just wondering if...well, if I could see-I mean if I can't, then, I understand, but-"

"Oh, I'm sure." muttered Dumbledore.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm sure the healers are almost done, and as soon as they leave, you can all go in and say 'hi'."

"He's woken up then?" asked Lupin hopefully, before anyone else had a chance to speak.

Dubledore gave them a small, sad smile. "No. Not yet."

He turned to go back into the room, but then stopped. "Actually, Ronald, if you would accompany me, you might be able to help. You see, I'm afraid you are the only one amongst us who knows exactly what happened in the graveyard. If you would be brave enough to recount those events for the healers and I, we might be able to find some way to help Harry."

Ron paled a bit, suddenly unsure. But after a moment, he nodded. He had a slim chance of helping Harry, and there was no way he would let his friend down. Dumbledore gave him a reassuring smile, and led him into the room.

Back out in the hallway, everything had calmed down considerably after Dumbledore had asked Ron to recount the events which had transpired.

The exasperated old healer had left to take care of other business, Hermione had stopped laughing; it had been she who had originally suggested that Ron go to visit Harry. However, she hadn't expected him to run with the idea-literally. Lupin had stopped pacing and had taken a seat next to Hagrid, who looked rather uncomfortable in his small chair.

"Hagrid, why don't you get up and move around a bit? You've been sitting there for ages."

Hagrid suddenly looked rather sheepish. "Oh, no. I'm fine, thanks, Hermione."

Hermione stared at him a second, then grinned. "You're stuck, aren't you?"

Hagrid blushed.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sun shined through the windows, coming to a stop and resting lazily on the floor of the silent hospital room.

The three healers and Dumbledore stared down at the boy lying silently on the bed. Awe was etched in all of their faces.

The room was silent.

Everyone stared at Harry, who was still deep in a coma.

One of the healers opened his mouth to speak, couldn't think of anything to say, and shut it again. After another minute of silence, he managed to croak out: "H-how? How could anyone survive that? Twice?"

For it was common knowledge that Harry had survived the killing curse when he as a baby, but how could he have survived it a second time?

Of course Dumbledore was the first who could come up with any sort of explanation.

"Well, it would appear to be ancient magic, though I can't say I've ever heard of it. Cases like this aren't too common. However, Harry gave his life willingly in order to save his friends, and in all actuality, the world. He knew what needed to be done, and did it. This act of selflessness must have been what saved him in the end, but, with what consequences, I wonder?"

The room was silent again. Then Ron spoke.

"What about the other curse? The one on his back? If-_when_ he wakes up, how will that work? I mean, he can't keep his eyes clenched shut forever, now, can he? And when he does see us, well. I'll tell you now, it's not fun. And I don't want him to run away again in order to protect us."

At that moment, the door burst open, and Hermione and the Weasley twins cane into the room, Hermione holding a rather large black book with leather binding. They all looked extremely triumphant.

"What's this about?" Asked one of the healers, a thin woman with flecks of gray showing through her light brown hair.

"We've got it!" said George happily.

"Got what?"

"Well," said Fred. "We were talking about the curse on Harry's back, and thought it funny that we all thought it sounded kind of familiar."

"So we did some research while Ron was telling you his story." continued Hermione.

"And we found the answer!" Said George.

"What?" asked Dumbledore, as he and the healers stepped over to the trio. Hermione thumbed through the book until she found the right page. She opened the book wide and set it on the foot of Harry's bed, below his feet.

The page she had turned to showed a picture of a scar- but not just any scar. It consisted of Celtic-looking patterns spread from the base of the neck to the middle of the back of whoever the picture had been taken of. It was a deep dark green, too. Just like Harry's.

The caption underneath read:

**The 'Deprivitansia' Curse: very rare. Extremely dark magic. **

**Can only be conjured by a very powerful witch or wizard.**

The Deprivitansia curse prevents the victim from returning to his/her home and life

and/or from seeing those he/she cares about most ever again. The effects of this curse vary from victim to victim, and also depends on the power of whoever cast the spell. Some recorded cases have included extreme pain for anyone near the one bearing the curse, bouts of invisibility, constant pain after seeing or coming in contact with those who had been forbidden by the curse, death to those who come in contact with the cursed one, etc.

The Deprivansia curse was originally used by the infamous 'You-Know-Who' in

the early stages of his treachery. He would bewitch his followers in order to prevent

them from returning to their families, promising them a cure for their loyal service.

However, for reasons unknown, 'You-Know-Who' stopped using this method about a year before his famous attack on the Potter residence. Some experts believe that...

Ron couldn't believe it. He read the first part of the passage again and again.

"Look." One of the healers spoke quietly, pointing at the bottom of the page. "There's the cure."

Ron grinned broadly. So did everyone else in the room. A weight seemed to have been lifted from everyone's shoulders.

"Good work, you three." Dumbledore beamed at Hermione, Fred, and George. For once, that seemed to be all he could say. Everyone just stood there, looking at the book. Until,

"So, uh, why don't we all leave while you guys get to work?"

"That sounds good. We'll notify you as soon as we're done."

Hermione and the twins dragged Ron out of the room with them. He looked back at his friend one last time before the door shut. His eyes were closed, his breathing was even. The scar on his cheek and throat stood out in the bright light of the room. Ron felt a burning anger rise up in him. At first it had scared him, when Harry had laughed at Voldemort's pain, but then when he thought about it, Voldemort had deserved every bit of what he got. After seeing the scars lining Harry's chest, stomach, arms, back, and knowing that they probably covered the rest of his body too, Ron felt that he wouldn't mind going down to the Department of Mysteries and laughing at whatever remained of the 'dark lord'.

As the doors to Harry's room swung shut, Ron watched his friend sleep.

"Don't worry, Harry. Everything's going to work out."

And the door shut with a click.


	22. Chapter 22

"Hey, Harry." Ron grabbed Harry's hand and sat in the chair next to the bed.

Still no response.

Ron sighed, looking at his comatose friend. Harry looked dead; pale, thin, dark circles under his eyes. Ron took comfort in watching his chest slowly rise up, then back down.

He sat like that for what seemed like an eternity, though it was only a few minutes.

"You know," Ron whispered, chuckling. "now you could totally live up to that look you were going for up in Glasgow, what with all the black and stuff. Bet you could pass for a zombie right now. Maybe even a vampire." He didn't know why he was trying to cheer his friend up. It wasn't like he could hear Ron's attempt at a joke.

He picked up Harry's arm and looked at the snake tattooed on the inside of the forearm. He had seen it before, but really didn't have a clue where it had come from. He thought it was some cruel joke on Voldemort's part. The idea that Harry had done it himself had never even crossed his mind.

But the tattoo reminded Ron of the body art place Harry had worked at. Inkheart...or something.

"I wonder how they're doing." He looked at his friend.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"-Derrin, Sam, and that other guy." He continued. "I kinda forgot about them, you know, with the whole, final battle with, uh, Voldemort, and all."

I...listened.

It wasn't like I could do much of anything else.

It was the weirdest thing- after I had...killed myself, I kind of 'slipped away' or something. There was no real way to explain it. I fell, and it was like my body shut down, but my mind didn't. I could still hear things, feel things, smell things, but my body was numb. I could feel people touching me, picking me up. I could feel when a needle was jabbed into my arm or something, but that was it.

All the pain I had carried around for well over two years now had just vanished. My back didn't hurt, my leg didn't hurt, my throat wasn't sore, all the aches and pains from the various torture I went through had just disappeared. Also, I couldn't feel any pain in my arm or anywhere from my final little 'duel'.

I rather liked this 'numbness'.

The rest of it sucked though.

I was completely aware of everything going on around me. I had heard everything said near me during the past four days five hours and twenty five minutes.

_Yes. I was very, _very,_ bored. _

The worst part is, I hadn't slept since this whole thing started, cuz, technically, I was already asleep. So I just laid there the whole time, listening to what was going on around me, feeling the warmth of the blankets, hearing the healers working around me, everything that was going on I could hear, really. Even out in the hallway.

Hagrid still hadn't left his post.

But there was something else bothering me. Something bad.

Well, two things, really.

One: The healers had found that the potion that would supposedly cure me had to be administered while I was 'awake'. Really awake. Not this fake coma type awake. So how would that work? How would I be able to tell if I was awake or not without opening my eyes? Talk? I had talked a lot since I came in here. In my mind. My mouth didn't move, although sometimes I could've sworn it did. So how would I know whether or not I was really talking?

As soon as I opened my eyes, in a room full of wizards and witches and friends and teachers...well. I didn't really want to think about it.

And two: If I was still alive...


	23. Chapter 23

_I was laying on my back in the cell, gasping for breath._

_Water dripped on into eternity in the background._

_Heavy footsteps marched towards me again and-_

_WHAM!_

_My body ragdolled back across the length of the stone chamber again and slammed up against the far wall._

_Whump!_

_The white-masked deatheater trod towards me. When he was only a foot away, he crouched down next to me._

"_What the bloody hell is up with you? Why do you keep fighting? There's nothing you can do."_

_I sputtered and struggled to get up._

_He reached out and grabbed my shoulder. I cried out as he slammed me up against the wall._

"_All your life you've been running into this pit, and now you're here. So what are you gonna do?"_

"_I'm going to keep fighting."_

"_For what?"_

_I looked up at Hermione from across the Gryffindor table._

"_I dunno. For everything."_

"_That's a pretty vague answer, Harry."_

"_I know. But, I'll just take it as it comes, you know? That's how it's always been."_

"_Sure, but back then, you knew what would happen. You knew exactly what you were fighting for and who you were fighting, right?"_

"_Sure. I was fighting so I could defeat Voldemort."_

"_Why?"_

_I glanced at Derrin as I worked on a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail on the back of some teenager._

"_Because, if I don't win, people die. Innocent people."_

"_And you care about people you've never seen in your whole life, and probably never will see? People who could care less if you didn't exist?"_

"_Well, yeah. I mean, just because they don't know me, and I don't know them, it doesn't mean I should just leave them to their fate, yeah?"_

"_So they're the only reason you fight?"_

"_They're the only reason I have."_

"_That so?"_

_I was silent for a moment as I added a bit more detail to the left wing of the dragon._

"_Yeah. I suppose."_

"_You don't fight for yourself?"_

"_Sure I do, but I'm not as important, you know? If I die, then I die. As long as Voldemort goes first."_

"_And why would you say that?" asked Dumbledore quietly from behind his desk. _

_Little magical instruments tinkled and buzzed and whirred all around the office. I stared into his calm blue eyes. _

"_Because all my life, I've been led toward this confrontation. You've been at the head of it all along. You've been manipulating me this whole time so I was fighting before I even knew I was a wizard."_

_I paused a second, then continued._

"_I've been fighting for so long, I don't know anything else. So, if I die, I don't care. As long as the one I'm fighting goes first. I don't know what I would do in a peaceful, calm, safe environment. It'd be maddening. I'd probably go mental."_

"_Come off it, mate."_

_Ron shoved me as we walked down the dirt road by the Burrow. _

"_What?"_

"_There's so much more to live for than just the fight."_

"_But I have to win. If I don't, then all hell breaks loose."_

"_Yeah, I know that. We all know that." He shrugged. "But you have fun hanging out with me, yeah?"_

"_Yeah. You're my best mate. Of course I like hanging with you."_

"_And you like being around all your friends, yeah?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You like playing Quidditch, yeah?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_And you're gonna just throw all that out the back door eh? All because you have to win, and you don't care what it takes?"_

"……_."_

"_You won't go mental when he's gone, mate. You'll be free. I think you're problem is that you don't know how to deal with that freedom."_

_We walked in silence for a few minutes._

"_I can't let Voldemort win."_

"_You've already defeated him though, haven't you?"_

_I looked over at Sirius._

"_What do you mean?"_

_We were sitting on the stairs in Grimmauld Place._

_Sirius took a swig of his butterbeer, sighed, then said,_

"_You fought him already, Harry. You won."_

"_When?"_

"_In the graveyard up in Glasgow. You saved Ron and Hermione."_

"_I did?"_

_He laughed._

"_Of course you did. Only time Voldemort's been truly scared in his life. Pity it didn't last longer."_

_We both sat in silence for several minutes._

"………_."_

"……_..."_

"………_."_

"………_."_

_I looked over at Sirius. "Say, didn't you die?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_When you fell through that veil. Didn't you die?"_

_He paused a second, thinking. "I guess so. Why? D'you want me to leave already?"_

"_No. I was just wondering. Does that mean I'm dead?"_

"_Far from it. Allow a godfather to give his godson some helpful advice every now and then."_

_I laughed. "All right."_

"_So, what are you going to do now?"_

_I sighed. "I dunno."_

"_Why not?"_

"_Honestly, I never expected to live this long."_

"_Ah."_

"_Sirius?"_

"_Yes, Harry?"_

"_If I'm alive, and you're not, but we're talking, does that mean this isn't real?"_

"_This is as real as you feel it to be."_

"_But I'm gonna have to wake up sometime. When that happens, will I see you again?"_

"_I never really left, Harry. I was right here, all along. Waiting for you to come and say 'hi'. Took you long enough."_

_We shared a quiet laugh._

"_How do you do it?"_

"_Do what?"_

"_You've always been so strong. Even when the whole goddamn world was against you, you stood your ground and you did what you thought was right."_

"_So've you. I'm not a prime example."_

"_Well, it's different with me."_

"_Yeah, I'm sure it is."_

"………"

"_How long has it been now?"_

"_Since what?"_

"_Since you were brought in here."_

_As I thought about it, I felt something kind of tugging at the back of my mind._

"_No. Sirius, I don't wanna go. I want to stay here, with you."_

"_Not yet, Harry."_

"_But, Sirius!"_

"_Not. Yet. It's not your time. Stick with your friends, Harry. All of them. Even when you feel the most lost. They'll always be there for you, Harry. Just be there for them as well."_

_Something burned at the corner of my eyes and at the back of my throat._

"_Sirius, please, don't go. Not again."_

"_Didn't you hear me the first time?" He shouted. It was like he was far away even though he was still sitting next to me._

_Everything was fading away into the gray depths of oblivion._

"_I never left you! And I never will! I'll be right here waiting, all right? Don't you forget, Harry. Don't forget your friends!"_

"_Sirius!"_

"_Goodbye, Harry. 'Till we meet again."_

"_SIRIUS!"_

"_Goodbye."_

"……………_..goodbye."_

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…_.. "Harry?"_

"………_."_

"_Harry?"_

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……_. "Harry, can you hear me?"_

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……_. "Harry, we're right here. Come back Harry. Come on. You can do it!"_

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………_. "Go, Harry. See your friends. Live your life. Because now you have a life to live……"_

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"I think he's waking up! Harry, come on Harry. Wake up. Come back. We're here."

A hand was gripping my own. Someone else's hand was on my shoulder.

"…..nnnnnngh…."

"He's waking up!"

People were whispering and murmuring all around.

"That's it, Harry. Wake up."

_Mr. Weasly?_

"Come on, Harry!"

_Hermione…_

The hand holding my own right one gripped a little tighter.

I became aware of a bright light filling the room or wherever I was that filtered in through my closed eyelids.

"…..nnngh….turn 'ff the light…"

"Haha! That's it, Harry."

"The curse?"

"They found an antidote. It's alright, Harry. You can open your eyes. You can see us."

"…but didn' I need to be awake for you to….."

"Oh, shut it, Harry." I could hear the hidden laugh in Ron's voice. "You'll spoil the moment."

"But…"

"We found a way around it. Simple as that, really. You don't need to worry about it, alright?"

"Sure."

I barely squinted my eyes open.

I smiled slightly. Tiredly.

" 'f you squeeze m'hand any tighter it'll fall off."

Everyone in the room started laughing and cheering.

It was a kind of loud and corny scene, but happy nonetheless.

"Welcome back, Harry." Ron beamed.

"…….I left?"

I noticed Ron, Hermione, and the Weasly's grouped tightly around my bed. Beyond them were the forms of Lupin, Tonks, Dumbledore, and of course, Hagrid.

"We were worried there. You were in a coma, mate. A pretty bad one."

"No I wasn't." I said quietly.

Everyone in the room was listening.

"I could hear you….feel you. It…..it was like, like I was just lying down. I was….awake…..but, I couldn't wake up."

Mrs. Weasly bent over me with tears in her eyes, and whispered,

"But you're back now. And that's all that matters."

She embraced my right side in a careful hug. Which reminded me….

"Mrs. Weasly?"

"Yes, dear?"

"…..My……my arm…….?"

"…………….."

Everyone in the room grew silent. It wasn't a happy silence either. I noticed none of them were looking at me.

I tried to lift my head, but I had no strength to do so. I tried moving my left fingers. I could feel them, but…..

"Wha's wrong….with my arm?"

Ron finally stepped forward, Hermione by his side.

"I'm sorry, Harry."

"The healers did all they could."

"They had to take it off."

I looked at them, not registering what they had said.

"Your arm, Harry. It kept getting worse." Hermione explained in a quiet voice. "They did everything they could, but it wouldn't get any better."

I could feel myself breathing a little bit faster.

"It got infected, and it was affecting your entire body, Harry. That's when you slipped even deeper into the coma. They had to take the arm in order to save your life."

"…..but……I can feel it….."

Dumbledore stepped forward. "Come now. We can worry about your arm later. There are thongs that we can do about it. Let's just be happy and celebrate the fact that you are once again with us, Harry."

"Here, here!" echoed Fred and George.

I looked over to Hermione, who had tears running silently down her face, and to Ron, who stood beside me, pale and tired.

"_Remember your friends, Harry. They are the most precious things you'll ever have in your life."_

I reached up slowly with my right hand and gripped Hermione's fingers. Both she and Ron looked at me. I smiled slightly.

"Everything will be alright."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I'm sure. Limbs are overrated."

They both smiled, too.

And for the first time in almost two years, I felt warm.

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Deep within the bowels of the Department of mysteries, there was a small, dark chamber. It was completely empty, save for the heavy, iron-bound chest that sat in the middle of the floor.

Every so often, a wisp of smoke could be seen rising from the crate towards the stone ceiling.

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A door creaked open, then shut again. Light poured into the room before getting cut off again. Footsteps could be heard, echoing through the chamber, before they stopped next to the crate.

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Cl-Click! Click!

Clack! Clack! Clack! Clack!

One by one the iron bars were ripped off the chest and dropped onto the floor.

Finally, the chest stood, alone.

Well…almost.

CREEEAAAAAK!

The lid was pried open with trembling hands.

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A breath.

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………. "I'm here, master."

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**  
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**The End.**

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Holy shit on a cracker, it's done!

Thanks to everyone for sticking with me. You guys kept me writing. If anyone wants to take a stab at a sequel, just let me know.

Until later,

Peace.

-Kybo


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